Think Twice, And Maybe You'll Live
by Yelof530
Summary: One century, 100 years, 24 tributes, and Twice the Thinking. Not your typical Hunger Games. Something strange is going on beneath the surface, and the tributes want to find out what. Remember, in these Games, you always need to Think Twice...
1. What I'm Doing Is Legal!

**Okay, I keep getting those "You can't write SYOT's" reviews. It's just bothering me, and so, I'm deciding just to cut out chapter 1-5. I'm only getting the posts on chapter 1, but I know they'll start going after 2 and 3 and so on after.**

**So the tributes for this story… that I "did not" get from other writers. They were all suggested by my "imaginary friends."**

***Okay, so I'm desperate I actually read the rules and guidelines. So no lists or interactive stories. Let's just say, I dedicate this chapter to Amata le Fay, who I kind of took the following idea from, just edited it a bit.***

_**(Following the reapings of the Districts)**_

President Frost (Yeah, her name was _Frost_, weird, huh?) slammed down a stack of papers. I glanced up from the diagram I had been studying, every detail of the new arena exact. Frost's icy blue eyes stared like daggers into me, her face grim. Such a beautiful face, worn down by twenty-five years of playing her powerful angle of President of all of Panem. Her ebony black hair was pulled back tight from her snow white face.

"May I help you?" I asked, brushing the form aside. Frost grabbed the remote from the little stand I had it in, pressing the on button. The large flat screen hummed as it turned on, and I propped my elbows up on the desk, leaning on my hands. Whenever Frost barges in like this, I know it's going to take awhile.

She surfed through the channels, onto the network only found in the homes of officials. In this case, the office of an official. It was the recap of the Reapings. I watched, unfazed through all of it. District Twelve surprised me a bit, but not much.

Frost laid her hands on my desk, leaning forward. Her expression seemed anxious, as well as furious.

…Oh, yeah.

I ran a hand from my hair nervously. "Didn't the escorts receive the message? The mayors?" I had to keep this charade going.

"We think the rebels caught drift of our plans and were able to intercept the message," Frost said. I leaned back in my chair.

"Is there any major differences?" I asked. Frost passed me forward a sheet of paper with a list of names:

_District One: __**Westria Vise**__ (17) & __**Carson Drox **__(18)_

_District Two__: __**Cadette Flinch **__(16) &__** Rimmer Kamerman **__(18)_

_District Three__: __**Violet Calloway**__ (14) & __**Nicholas Calloway **__(13)_

_District Four__:__** Brooke Liam **__(15) & __**Filler Charlesworthe **__(18)_

_District Five__: __**Dia Lockhart**__ (17) & __**Kaeden Whitrow **__(17)_

_District Six__:__** Arianne Misham **__(15) & __**Dorian Happens **__(15)_

_District Seven__:__** Reeda "Ree" Kails **__(14) & __**Trey Canter **__(16)_

_District Eight__: __**Allie Manson **__(16) __**& Rocker Tripp **__(13)_

_District Nine__: __**Kyla Sprit **__(12) & __**Quinten Wilkens **__(12)_

_District Ten__: __**Tanya Ride **__(14) & __**Drale Shelter **__(17)_

_District Eleven__:_ _**Robyn Achene **__(17) & __**Jayden Crush **__(14)_

_District Twelve__:_ _**Teagan Aniston **__(14) & __**Kellen Mellark**__ (14)_

I nodded as I reviewed the familiar names, taking in the ones I didn't recognize. Frost's stubby finger pointed out certain names.

"These kids are the ones who weren't supposed to be there," she said, scrolling over the names I didn't fully know. "The most notable of the ones who got out of it was the Riptide child and Manna." Thank goodness. Those two were probably the most likely to die first.

In mock thought, I drummed my fingers on the table. "Well, it will be more likely to have them die, with Careers and all. And it's not like we lost this one," I said, pointing to a name. If you're bright, it will be way too easy to figure out who I pointed at.

Frost gave me a small smile. "If he hadn't I'd probably would have killed him myself." The woman picked up her paperwork, walking to the door. "Well, I'm off, Fulton. Hope everything is alright with the arena." I nodded, looking down at the list again.

Panem save their souls.

There was a certain pain to this job. The rebels understood this, but it didn't make this any easier. As Head Gamemaker, I had to make the arenas alive and unforgiving.

**Yup, no breaking of rules here.**

**Quarter Quell ruling:**

**"To remind the rebels that they should always think twice, our Quell rules will be kept secret, and the twist will go unannounced."**

***Hint* Your Tributes will have to be thinking twice very often if they want to make it past the first few days alive**

***Bangs head against wall* Please, this has got to work.**

**May the odds be ever in your favor**


	2. D1 Reaping: Monsters Don't Cry

**Sorry, I've been really busy lately. I know I made this really long and that was another reason it took me so long but well, here you have it, District One Reaping.**

_**Westria Vise, District 1**_

"Again," Trenton said. Actually it was more like yelled at the top on his lungs. I ran through the drill like instructed. Feinting an uppercut, I brought the sword down with a heavy blow. Instantly, I twisted on my heels, pulling the sword from the first wooden dummy, thrusting it into the stomach of the second. My fist made contact with the faceless person, knocking it off my weapon. The sword flew in an arc to the next dummy. It sliced it clean in half, the top falling to the ground with a satisfying _thud_.

"Again," Trenton repeated. Panting, I threw the sharp blade down in a fit of defiance.

"I've already done it again," I hissed. "Again, and again. Give me a break."

Trenton frowned. "A _break_? Since when do you get a _break_? Not one person on that arena will give you a break. Now, again."

"No one in that arena is made of wood," I retorted, kicking up one of the broken heads of a dismembered body from earlier. My knuckles were raw from punching the stupid wooden things and they stung as I caught the decapitated head.

Taking a deep breath, I said, "The reaping is in an hour. Let me say goodbye to my friends." Trenton glared at me. "Not permanently. If I didn't think I had a chance, would I be volunteering?"

Without warning, the man swung a fist at me. Instinctively, I ducked, poised on my toes. Swinging my leg around, I attempted to sweep Trenton out from under him. He tumbled over it, rolling onto his feet, twisting to face me. For a guy his age, he's really light on his feet. I stood up straight, my fists prepared in a fighting position. He ran in with a fist. As I ducked this strike as well but didn't expect the knee. He drove it into my stomach, causing me to sputter for breath. His knee went down, preparing for another strike. Now aware of what was to happen, I slipped out of his grip.

The sound of my racing heart echoed in my ears, not from the movement, but from the sudden rush of adrenaline. Swinging a right hook around, I thought I finally had a shot in on him. Emphasis on _thought_.

Trenton's hand shot out, an iron grip on my wrist. He twirled me around, my arm now pinned to my back.

"Now, if we were in the games, I'd do one of the following; slit your throat, snap your neck, or break your arm, making your demise _especially _painful afterwards." His voice was so low and so sly; it sent shivers down my spine.

Trenton threw me to the ground. When I hit the stone, I glared up at him. The words came out of me before I could stop.

"This is exactly why Mom left you; you're a monster." It was obviously the wrong thing to say. I counted one of my sped up heart beats, and I was already dangling from my collar. Trenton's fury filled eyes bore into me.

"I'm a _monster?_ I'll show you a monster. A monster was the one who won the 78th Hunger Games," he hissed. "You will do everything I say, understand? You can worry about seeing your friends, or actually having friends, after you win."

Trying not to look weak, I gasped out, "Yes…Father." The world began to swim in my blurred vision. Finally, air rattled into my lungs. I brushed back my hair. Trenton shook his head at me, staring down with disgust.

"I'll see you at the reaping," he said gruffly, walking inside the house. I picked up the head from before, staring at its rough surface. I imagined it as Trenton's face and slammed it down on the stone. A strange battle cry escaped me. The head cracked in half, being made of such flimsy wood. My face felt cold and reaching up, I found it wet. I quickly wiped away the tears.

If Trenton saw me crying, he'd haul my ass inside and let me walk back out with a lovely black eye to show all of Panem when I volunteered. _Warriors never cry_, he says.

Warriors do cry. Monsters just don't.

_**Carson Drox**_

She couldn't see it. But I had to get rid of the stash. One glance at it and Mom will be reeling, demanding I give her the needle and clear liquid. I couldn't keep it in the house, though, in case she did find it on her own.

After a minute of staring at the bag, I picked it up swiftly and simply stomped out the door of my bedroom. Okay, so she may see it, but she's a morphling addict, she can't exactly stop me.

Passing through the living room, I ignored the feeble figure in the corner of the room and kept walking, right out the door. Pausing a moment, I jogged over the trash bin and threw the bag in there.

Mom stared at me with wide, deprived eyes as I walked back in, shaking off the light rain that had begun. "What were you carrying?" she asked.

"Nothing," I answered simply, making my way into the bedrooms. Different kind of wide eyes created me. I smiled at the group.

"Good morning," I greeted. Stepping towards the first crib, the scent of, well, a messy crib reached my nose.

"Oh, Kaster," I said, lifting the wriggling body out. Lilliet whimpered in her crib while Julian remained quiet, staring at me, from the crib he shared with Lilliet. I looked sadly at the beds they had, knowing they, knowing they were growing too big for them. Changing Kaster's sheets quickly, I changed the triplets into their best clothes. They have no chance of being reaped, being only two and a half after all, but they had to look nice for the cameras. A set of triplets as siblings would definitely earn me some sponsors.

The Games were my chance of a better life for the family. I could actually get Mom help; Dad wouldn't have to work as often, wouldn't have to work at all. The triplets could have a nanny to take care of them.

Once Kaster, Julian, and Lilliet were fed, I laid them gently back into the cribs. Lilliet pouted at me.

"Are you really going away today?" she whined. Her hazel eyes glistened wet, her light brown hair sticking out in her usual odd angles.

"Yeah, kiddo, but I'm coming back," I said, tapping her nose playfully. "And when I do, we'll move into a big house, where you'll have lots of toys."

"Lots of toys?" Kaster said excitedly.

"I just said that, didn't I?" Nobody would believe I talked like this. I don't usually talk at all.

Leaving them there for now, I took a quick jog around the block. Every corner, I would drop and do a set of twenty push-ups. My heart beat remained steady, like it should. I have been training since I was ten. Ever since Mom started using that stupid drug, I knew this was the way I could provide for the family. Of course, the arrival of the triplets made this harder but I managed.

On the final road, the beginnings of sweat started up. I slipped off my shirt, shoving it into my pocket. Transitioning from a simple run to a flat out sprint, I breathed evenly through my nose, making my way back home.

Upon arriving I found the lid of the trash thrown to the side. Peering in, I examined that the bag I had thrown in there was gone. I jerked backwards, startled.

Mom.

I had to win the Games.

_**Westria**_

"Hey, Westy," Jace simpered. I casted him a heavy glare.

Reanne stepped up next to me, laying a light hand on my arm. "Don't, you'll end up feeling sorry later." The girl turned to Jace. "And don't call her Westy; you know she hates it and that she'll kill you for it."

Jace jogged up next to me. He smirked but the corners of his mouth dropped as he saw my dead serious face.

"That's what I thought." Ah, how quickly the tables turned.

"You volunteering?" Trey asked. He wore a nice button down shirt with black pants. I nodded, wrinkling my nose at the thought. For a moment, I swear I saw a flicker of worry on his face. But it was nothing. He knew I had to do this.

The crowd around the town square was beginning to thicken. The four of us parted me and Reanne to the girl's seventeen year old section, Trey to the boys, and Jace to the eighteen year old boys. The usual escort, who I swear has been here for every Hunger Games, droned on through the standard greetings and speech. At one point he seemed to nod off, falling asleep, but soon was shook awake by a Peacekeeper.

Finally, he got to the reaping.

"First, the gentlemen," he said, his voice creaky and tired sounding. I raised an eyebrow. That was a surprise. Maybe it was part of the _Think Twice_ Quarter Quell. I have to admit, the idea was pretty stupid. Jace, Reanne and I were laughing at it for hours. Trey just kept to himself like he usually does, taking it all seriously. Rifling his hand through the huge bowl, the man shakily grabbed a small slip of paper.

Maybe I didn't have to volunteer. Maybe I could let some other girl, crazed with bloodlust, go into the games. Let her win or lose. Live or survive. It could be so easy. I wouldn't have to worry, think game strategy, or train. I could have an actual life; have friends I could actually hang out with.

The man pulled a pair of glasses from his black suit jacket. Unlike most of these Capitol dopes, this guy looked fairly normal looking, not getting into all the hype of the fashion of the Capitol. He put them shakily on his wizened face.

"Trey Madders!" He proclaimed. Most people had to lean in and ask someone around them the name.

Wait, Trey. He wouldn't last a second in the Games. His family, unlike most in the District, saw it as _cruel_ and _menacing._ I glanced over at him. He wasn't even walking forward.

"I volunteer!" Another boy shouted. He strode through the crowd, his head held high, dressed nicely in a vest and trousers. His expression seemed of non-interest, his stride powerful. Carson Dox or Rox, something like that. The few conversations I've ever had with the guy, mainly when I saw him jogging around the neighbor hood, he spoke very little, giving one, two word answers.

"And what may your name be?" The man asked, unsurprised.

"Carson Drox." Yeah that was it.

The man nodded. "Now the ladies." I took a step towards Reanne. She smiled encouragingly at me. Do I have to volunteer?

From somewhere near the stage, Trenton scowled at me, standing near the other previous Victors. His face was easy to read; _you don't volunteer, you won't see tomorrow._ I tried to swallow but it just lobbed in my throat.

Before he even announced the name my hand was in the air. "I volunteer." I felt like everything was in slow motion. I marched to the stage, smiling with mock pride. People cheered and waved. A camera shoved into my face and I waved into it, for all the people of Panem to see.

_**Carson**_

After shaking hands with Westria, we were ushered into the Justice Building. The place looked fancy, but smelled ancient. They separated us then, bringing me into one room, Westria in another. First, it was the triplets and Dad. He didn't have to be at work for the reaping, barely any one did.

Kaster and Lilliet crawled up onto my knees. They babbled out different questions, tugging at my clothes to get my attention. Dad remained silent, gently stroking Julian's hair. We've drifted over the past years, with him working so much, me training. I wonder how he's taking it.

"Dad, I'll be okay," I said, smiling at him. "I'm ready for it. Things will get better when I win. Mom can get help. You can spend more time with the littles."

"What if you don't win?" With wide eyes, I looked at Julian. He had asked the question.

"Of course I'll win," I answered after a moment's hesitation.

Julian cocked his head to the side. "But how do you know? Not everyone wins every time when playing a game." I didn't know how to answer that question. I didn't have to.

A Peacekeeper came in at that moment. He roughly carried Kaster and Lilliet out, telling Dad to get a move on. "Good luck," he said over his shoulder. Julian waved goodbye.

After they left, Chastity came in. She threw her arms around me.

"I love you," she whispered. I stroked her hair silently. "Here," she said, sitting back. "Take this, as your token." Chastity took my hand, her brown eyes boring into me. The charm bracelet I had gotten her over two years ago for her sixteenth birthday glistened in it. It had taken me awhile to save up for it.

Without arguing about how dumb I'd look, I unclipped it and put the bracelet on. I held the glittering _C _in my between my thumb and index finger, as gently as if I were holding Chastity's hand. She smiled brightly.

A Peacekeeper came in. Before he said anything, I grabbed Chastity and kissed her softly. And with that, she and her very presence were pulled away, leaving me to hold onto her _C_.

_**Westria**_

Trenton didn't come to say goodbye. He was to be the mentor for this year so I would see him anyway. First to come in was Reanne. She smiled and wished me luck, saying she'll plan the greatest party ever when I returned. I smiled at the thought. It would probably be the first party that I wouldn't have to sneak out of the house to go to. Next strolled in Jace. He just smirked and told me to knock some heads.

After several other people came Trey. He waved silently at me, sitting on the fancy sofa next to me. His face seemed gaunt and he wouldn't look at me.

"Good luck," he said softly.

"Thanks," I answered stiffly. After a moment of silence, I couldn't stand it. "What's your problem?"

Trey's eyes glanced over to me. "My problem? You're about to go into an arena in which I may see you die."

I frowned. "But I won't."

"How do you know? You seem so sure of yourself. Okay, sure you may not die, but you'll be different when you come back."

"Sure…." Was this guy on dope?

Trey scowled at me. "You've seen what people do in those Games. They kill innocent _children_. They turn bloodthirsty. They become people who they're not."

"But I have to," I yelled at him. "Trenton says I have to. You know it wasn't my decision."

Trey grabbed my shoulders, his blue eyes seeming to cloud over. "I don't give a damn what your father says. You hate him, yet you listen to him. You're afraid, just like every other person in these goddamn districts. That's what the Capitol does to everyone, that's how they get us to do what they want. Because we're afraid."

"Why does it matter?" I pulled his hands away, staring the boy down. He mumbled something under his breath that I didn't quite catch.

"What?" I never got to find out what he said. Trey stood, a Peacekeeper in the doorway. He surveyed us with interest, I guess having heard our shouting match.

Trey walked out the door, never looking back.

**So there's no confusion, Trey is different from the guy from district 7. What do you think he said, though? And remember how they called Trey's name and what he said while saying goodbye. This will be important later.**


	3. D2 Reaping: It's A Freaking Beret!

**So apparently, my computer is going to die any day now. Great. Thankfully, I can use the new one my mom got but, you know, I've grown attached. **

**So, just because I feel like it, this is hint two:**

_The harvest for this thanksgiving was not fully collected, but still scattered among the fields._

**This one is supposed to be more of a metaphor, so think, thanksgiving, and arena. **

_**Rimmer Kamerman, District 2**_

"Armon, this will work," I smirked. My brother rolled his eyes. "When do my plans ever fail?"

"Well," he said pushing back a lock of his longish curly auburn hair. "To start…."

"Shut up, he's coming." Armon and I dodged behind the corner, peeking around mischievously. The stone walls of District Two made the street look dull but in a moment, it will look very colorful. He won't even see it coming.

Leo strolled down the sidewalk like he normally does, hands in his pockets. I gritted my teeth as the clouds floated off, sunlight now shining down onto the thin, clear wire I had placed in the pathway. Could this guy walk any slower?

"What are you guys doing?" a voice said from behind us. I gritted my teeth even more. It wouldn't be the brightest idea to tell my sister that we're about to paint her fiancé.

"Um," I said, exchanging a look with Armon. "Nothing."

"Nothing certainly means something," she said, smiling teasingly. Suddenly, we heard a _ping _of our wire. Wait, shouldn't that sound be more far off? I looked up, swallowing. Dammit, he reversed my rig. Reflexes taking over, I jerked backwards, pulling Armon with me, into the street.

Leo smirked as he caught sight of us. I guess realization followed because it disappeared from his face, turning into a humored disappointment.

"Guess your little trick of the day didn't work on me," he said semi-victoriously, pointing upwards in that weird way people do sometimes. "Looks like you're not that clever after all. You're just lucky you dodged-" His face quickly crumpled, his finger becoming crooked. "Oh, sorry, honey."

I turned around, biting my tongue to keep back the laughter. Crista was covered, head to toe, in green paint. She opened her mouth and closed it several times, trying to find the right words. Out of the corner of my eye, I observed how Armon, too, seemed to be biting down on his tongue and Leo's jaw tensed.

It started out as a low chuckle, but all of us, even Crista, were soon laughing in a crescendo, louder until all our sides hurt. Wiping away a tear, Crista finally spoke.

"This stuff does come out, right?"

I looked at her with mock hurt. "Why would I use permanent paint that would take forever to take out of clothing?"

Leo put an arm around my shoulders. "Let me guess; they were out of it at the store." I shrugged.

"You have no proof." I ducked out from under his arm before anybody could scruff up my fohawk. "Now, excuse me, but I have some cookies to eat."

_**Cadette Flinch**_

"Mom, I told you, I am not going to wear that," I said. I smiled to myself. That voice would be perfect for the interviews. Confident, proud, with a dash of sarcasm. Mom frowned, shoving the dress again at me.

"But it will match your eyes perfectly," she stated indignantly. I swatted it from her grip, smacking the soft fabric to the ground. With that, I turned and marched back to my room. Mom sighed dramatically, calling, "You won't get sponsors in any drab outfit. It is the Capitol after all!" Cobalt skirted around me in the hallway. I couldn't help but scruff up his blonde hair, mussed up from bed head, on the way. He stared up at me with bleary eyes, still rubbing away the sleep. I guess he was too tired to argue.

Upon entering my room, I slipped on a pair of jeans, a sleeveless white shirt with blue designs, and, of course, a denim beret. It was one of my favorites; it took me awhile to find one that was denim, and this particular shade matched my jeans exactly. Looking in the mirror, I tried to shove the diamond earrings Mom insisted on me wearing, the holes nearly closed. My face, round, eyes staring with determination, eyelashes that were ridiculously long. A face you'd expect on any sweet little girl.

Sadly, I wasn't that girl.

Tucking my hair behind my ears, now red from the earrings (those damn things never wanted to go in), I strolled back into the kitchen. Dad nodded a hello, finishing his breakfast. Mom was busy brushing Jade's hair. Unlike most kids in other districts, Jade wasn't nervous about this being her first reaping. This was District Two, nevertheless, and somebody was bound to volunteer. That somebody may as well be me.

Dad looked over at me. "Ready?" I nodded. Jade's eyes widened at father, as if he just started a topic of conversation that should be left unsaid.

I smiled, knowing this would bother her. "Of course I'm ready. I _am_ the Victor of the 100th Hunger Games." Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Jade mimic me, placing her hands proudly on her hips, raising her nose up and making a face. Cobalt chuckled under his breath, his head laid down on the table. I prepared to scowl at them but Dad laid a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't start; you'll be having a long day." Right at that moment, a knock came from the door. I instantly stood from where I was leaning on the table, hugging Mom and Dad goodbye, flicking both Jade and Cobalt in the ear.

"Hey!" They called in unison. Smirking, I stepped outside. It may seem like I don't get along with them, but I actually love my family. I don't despise Jade or Mom. It's just what I do.

Crane and Esmeralda were waiting expectantly for me. They were both dressed in nice outfits, way more stunning then me. We exchanged our standard greetings and headed off down the block. The two other girls chattered excitedly, going on about how I was sure to win.

"Where's Jez?" I interrupted. They looked at me, slightly confused.

"Jezebel?" Crane asked.

I pulled my beret lower over my face. "No, the other person I call Jez." Esmeralda and Crane exchanged glances. "Well?"

Esmeralda's green eyes snapped back to me. "We didn't want to wake her quite yet, she's meeting us at the reaping." We continued on but I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Can't wake the wonderful princess from her beauty sleep, now, can we.

Suddenly, Crane screeched. Esmeralda followed suit, skirting backwards and lifting up her foot. Peering around them, I saw the splattered green paint on the ground. Really? They're getting upset over that? Panem forbid they get paint on their shoes.

From the home nearest the sidewalk, a boy-young man-person walked out, looking around. His eyes landed on us and he strolled over, a smile creeping across his face. This guy read prankster, his hair slicked up in a fohawk with slight curliness to it, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Maybe this guy was sort of cute, since Esmeralda blushed, wiping the paint of her shoe using the grass while Crane eyed him with interest. Why was I friends with them again?

The guy rubbed his head. "Sorry, forgot to clean that, didn't I?" The two nodded stiffly. "Wait here, let me get something to clean your shoes." As he walked back in, I started off the way we were going. Crane grabbed my arm.

"Oh, come on, you see one cute guy and you-" Crane's grip tightened on me as the dude came out again. He swiftly handed over moistened towels for the two. I finally sighed dramatically.

"Now that this moron has finished cleaning your pretty little shoes, can we go?" I drawled, hands on hips. He looked at me.

"Who are you calling moron?" he said, eyes narrowing on me.

Ignoring Esmeralda's and Crane's pleading looks, I strode up in front of the guy. "You, obviously enough." His jaw tensed. He had to be a whole foot taller than me and I had to tilt my head up to stare him down.

"Rimmer, what are you doing?" a woman's voice said. The guy twisted his head around.

"Oh, just helping these girls out, they kind of stepped on my prank," he answered, stepping back. His voice relaxed.

The woman shook her head in dismay. "Rimmer, you have to clean up after your tricks. I swear, I remember once, when he was twelve, the boy had made a batch of cookies and gave it to his class."

The boy winced. "Mom-"

"Of course, he had made it with laxatives…."

"Mom-"

"I could just imagine how those bathrooms smelled…."

I smirked at the guy -Rimmer- and nodded at his mother. "Thank you for that wonderful story, but we must be off now." Not caring if they had finished cleaning they're shoes, I tugged the other two along.

"That was some young lady," I heard the mother say as I marched off. "But she did have a nice hat."

"It's called a beret," I muttered.

_**Rimmer**_

Poppy's voice rose as it does when she's animated in her speech. "I mean, these kids are raised like pigs, to be all shone off, but to be slaughtered later. No wonder other districts call us Careers, that's all half our district thinks about."

Adriel looked at her with mock indignity. "Why would you say such a thing?"

"Yeah, I mean, it has to be at least 75-86% of what the district thinks," Voleta put in mutely. Adriel pouted his ever talkative lips.

"Dude that was my joke!" Voleta gave him a coy grin.

"You didn't speak fast enough so it's mine," she said. In a lower voice she added, "Which is a surprise since your mouth never seems to stop moving."

Adriel shook his head. "No, I set up that joke, I was going to finish it, and so it's mine."

"How can I be sure?" The two continued bickering like this until we were almost in the town.

I finally grabbed them by the back of their collars and put them on separate sides of me. "No more arguing. Don't make me turn this car around."

Sandro limped awkwardly behind us. "F-finally, I thought you'd n-n-never sh-shut up," he stuttered out. His teeth looked odd compared to most people, well, just looked odd in general. They were incredibly small, made me wonder how he ate. Sandro walked with two poles attached to his arms. Even when it was warm outside, he wore long pants to cover his legs. I can tell he can be very self-conscious about them.

I still remember the day those douche bags had picked on him for it. I swear, me, Hayden, and Adriel have probably never hit anybody harder.

Upon arrival, we separated into our sections. Hayden helped Sandro in the 17 area, while Adriel and I hung out loosely in the 18. I remember when I had stood here with Armon. Peacekeepers kept yelling at us to stay in our sections. Ah the jokes we said to confuse then, including speaking in a language I once read about in a book.

The lady on stage, who, with her white and brown hair that was swirled around on her head and a big poofy dress, reminded me of a cinnamon bun, trilled on with the opening speech.

"And without a further ado, the boys," she practically giggled. Huh boys, isn't it usually girls first? Eh, maybe they're just trying to change things up, be funny.

Picking a name out of the bowl with her chubby fingers, she announced, "Sandro Manna."

Well, not my- oh crap, Sandro! I glanced nervously around. This is District Two, why isn't any one volunteering? A hushed voice answered my question without them even realizing it.

"Watching that guy in the arena would be hilarious," one guy said in my area.

"He wouldn't make it past the first day," another chuckled. "Not even. The first five minutes."

I felt my fists tighten. Everyone knew Sandro would die. Not only did he have trouble walking and speaking, but he was deathly allergic to certain things. The guy could go into anaphylactic shock upon rising up into a certain arena and breathing in the air.

Sandro struggled up the steps, being roughly shoved by a Peacekeeper. That's it.

My clenched fist swiftly knocked one of the asses who were talking before to the ground, out cold.

"I volunteer!" I shouted, striding up towards the stage. Sandro watched me with wide eyes. As I marched up the steps to the stage, his eyes met mine.

_Thank you, _he mouthed, not shaking our screwing up the words, for lack of better words to describe it.

The woman looked at my fierce expression, nodding in approval. "I volunteer," I repeated. "Rimmer Kamerman." She announced my name to the crowd. I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling my heart lighten. Good, Sandro's safe. I'm taking his place.

My stomach dropped. I'm taking his place. In the Hunger Games. Where I may die. Painfully. What the hell did I get myself into?

_**Cadette**_

"Jade Flinch."

I felt my eye twitch. Jade has only been training for two years. She may make it far but would die either way. I raised my hand.

"I volunteer." As I started walking, I hesitated for a second. I was volunteering for my sister. Something about that made it feel different. More humble, for some reason.

As I walked up the steps, my eyes narrowed on the boy standing there.

"My name is Cadette Flinch," I announced proudly. "Future winner of the Hunger Games." The woman nodded at me, whispering, "Someone's sure of herself," under her breath. The guy already standing on the stage smiled at me flicking my beret off my head and putting it on his own.

"Hey does this look nice on me?" he cooed at me. I remember this guy, Rimmer. My eyes narrowed on him, mentally stabbing the guy and sewing together his mouth. He'll be dying in that arena first.

_**Rimmer**_

Cadette snatched for her hat. I finally put it back on her head crookedly and shook her hand. We let go, but I swear, she was trying to cut off all circulation in my hand.

"Nice hat."

She scowled at me. "It's a freaking beret." They escorted us off the stage but Cadette watched me as if she were planning my demise. Catching her gaze, she smiled sarcastically at me.

The odds were definitely not in my favor.

Hmm… where have I heard that line from before….?


	4. D3 Reaping: I Look Like My Parents

**(With a bottle of Dr. Pepper, a handful of Honey Roasted Cashews, and a new pair of glasses, I wrote most of this in the space of an hour or two ten o'clock at night)**

**Okay, these characters, I had a lot of fun writing. I felt their story was best said through memories. And I have an underlying story going on through all these chapters. Pay close attention.**

_**Nicholas Calloway**_

"Nicholas Calloway." The name rang out over the square of District Three. The breath caught in my throat. Across the way, I felt Violet's gaze from the 14 year old girl enclosure. Weakly, I took my first steps forward. I've applied for tessera a few times within the past few months. But could those few slips have caused me to have to walk to my certain death?

Words muttered out of my mouth. People looked at me oddly, as if I was hallucinating and speaking in tongues. Well, in technicality, I was speaking in a different language, one I read and learned to speak from a book. It's been months since I've read it but I still remember every word. Everything I've ever read just seems to be permanently lodged into my brain. Call me the human dictionary.

And it's not like I can look back to the book, even if I wanted to. It was one of the things Violet, Claudia, and I couldn't salvage from the ash of what used to be our house. Four months seems so long ago, thinking back to that evening. I still remember finding that human skull. From what I could tell from the teeth, it was Dad's.

I threw up after seeing that.

It felt like forever until I reached the stage. The escort, a young man with tattoos which I guessed corresponded with each district, a fish for Four, tree for Seven, pick ax for Twelve, covering his body, gestured towards me.

"Let's give this lucky young man a hand," he said in that ridiculous Capitol accent. The audience clapped lamely. Not at the very least phased, he picked the next name. My mind wandered off. I hope Violet could take care of Claudia. Surely she could. We've been taking care of ourselves for months now. With no parents and all.

Suddenly, everything before me changed. I wasn't standing on stage for the reaping. The distinct smell of smoke floated through the air. It was that terrible night. The memory refused to go away. Nothing I ever saw ever went away. Every detail had burned itself onto my brain for eternity.

A heavy layer of ash formed on my glasses. Every time I wiped them clear, more particles floated on. Violet coughed next to me. Her purple ribbon hung limply in her face, close to falling out. I pulled it out any way and handed it to my sister. She wouldn't want to lose it. Claudia whimpered softly next to me, in that strange way that the only sounds she made were sniffles. The flames lit up her eyes up, sparkling them with fear. The Peacekeeper-the monster- who started the flames, smacked his hands together, the gesture that said, _My work here is done._ Instantly, I grabbed my sisters' hands and tried to pull them away. But there hands weren't there.

I shook away the memory. I carefully listened to the escort.

He paused dramatically upon pulling out that white slip of paper.

"Violet Calloway." No. That's not right. They called my name already. Both of our names couldn't have been called. It's not possible. Instantly, I snatched it from his grip. The name was as clear as day; _Violet Calloway._ My jaw dropped

I made a promise to myself; no matter what happens, my sister will not die. She will live, and take care of Claudia.

Even if it's at the cost of my own life.

_**Violet Calloway**_

The rubber band in my grip snapped. I had been fiddling with it nervously during the opening speech. Then they said the name.

"Nicholas Calloway." My brother walked slowly up towards the stage. The tips of his scruffy brown hair flicked as he moved. As he stood on the stage, his eyes met mine. I don't think he realized it but he gave me a shaky grin with those lovable wonky teeth of his. His eyes suddenly darkened. The boy jerked around and seized the second slip of paper from the man. Whenever Claudia saw him or any kind of Capitol person, her eyes widened as if it were some magical being from another land. Which, in a way, it was.

I just called the Capitol people _it_, didn't I?

Suddenly, a Peacekeeper latched a hand onto my wrist and nearly tugged my arm out of its socket as he hauled me in the direction of the stage. My memory briefly reached me.

A dramatic pause. "Violet Calloway." My stomach dropped.

My knees collapsed from underneath me. The Peacekeeper, with a grunt, threw me over his shoulder and tossed me on the stage. I lay sprawled at the tattoo man's feet. He smiled a mocking grin at me.

"Quaking with excitement, aren't you?" he said into the microphone. "Any volunteers?" The crowd watched me with solemn eyes. No one said a word.

Klaus put a hand out for me. I took it and stood, leaning on him so that I won't faint. Poor Claudia. She may end up being all alone; have to go to that orphanage in the district. No one good ever came out of there. The fact that she doesn't speak will make it harder. I remember those late evenings where she'd hand me my tools to help me make my inventions. We never talked, yet she knew exactly what to give me.

Klaus held onto my hand tight. He may be younger than me but he had Dad's height, towering over me. Of course, I inherited Mom's more petite frame. I fit into the only dress we could save from the ash. I fingered the singed edges of it now.

The escort announced us as the District Three tributes. I stood firmly on my two feet, holding strong to Klaus' hand. People clapped pathetically.

In the far back of the crowd, my eyes landed on a girl. The collar of her jacket was propped up around her neck. Black hair cascaded down over her shoulders. Her face looked vaguely familiar, and I searched my brain hard to place it. If Klaus saw her, he'd figure it out in a heart beat. She couldn't be much older than eighteen, nineteen years old.

Silently, she pressed the three middle fingers of her left hand against her lips. My eyes widened at the gesture. I've only managed to have seen it once. We live in the cellar of one of the unoccupied homes in the Victors' Village. Mixed within 74 other tapes, we found one that the Capitol never shows on TV.

I remember sliding it into the television. It was at the very end of the reapings. When they reaped a girl by the name of Primrose Everdeen. Her sister flew to the stage, volunteering, shoving her protectively behind her. In answer the crowd gave a stone silent salute, three fingers of the left hand pressed against their lips.

The tape of the 74th Hunger Games. It's banned from the districts now.

And that was the salute the girl gave us now.

Why was she giving us that salute? We didn't know her, and she, at least I think, didn't now us.

Right then, I swore I felt something. Something deep in my bones. These games are going to be different. Something will be different. Something will happen.

But it was just a feeling.

_**Nicholas Calloway**_

I held onto Violet's hand until we were brought into separate rooms. There would only be one person who would be saying goodbye to us, and she couldn't even _say _goodbye. I guess Claudia was seeing Violet first, because I sat there for a few minutes on my own.

Unexpectedly, a girl walked in. Slipping on a pair of shades, she sat next to me and anxiously grabbed my hand.

"Listen to every word I say, I know you'll remember it," she whispered hurriedly, glancing at the door. "The Capitol put you in these Games for a reason. They have a secret that they're afraid of you finding out."

"You mean the reaping was fixed?" I interrupted. The girl pressed a finger to my lips. After a moment, she nodded.

"The Capitol wants you and your sister dead. They want a lot of kids in the districts dead. We were only able to save a few by screwing up a message. Sadly, that only put you in more danger, with Careers in there."

I took in every word, but I felt my head shaking no. "Why should I believe you?"

The girl paused, as if she were making a decision. Finally, she slid off her shades. Clear blue eyes stared at me.

"Let's just say I look a lot like my parents," she sighed. "You look a lot like your father. He and your mom are the reason you're here. My name is Rose by the way." Suddenly, it felt like all the wind was knocked out of me. That can't be…certainly….

Quickly, she stood and scurried to the door. "Oh," she added as she stood by the door. "Don't get rid off your jacket. You'll need it later." Jacket? I wasn't wearing a jacket.

She slipped past the Peacekeeper easily. He looked in and nodded at me. Hey, he was awfully good looking for a Peacekeeper. No offense to Peacekeepers, but they tended to be kind of…not nice looking.

That girl…I knew who she was.


	5. D4 Reaping: Ghost Kisses

**Thanks a lot for the positive comments. Ah, yes, the mysterious Rose. Who do **_**you**_ **think she is? Review what you think.**

**And apparently Nicholas and Violet are characters from another book series…and are very similar to those characters.**

**I'm watching you nemetb34… (I'm just kidding; it doesn't bother me if I'm sent in characters that were "inspired" from another series)**

_**Filler Charlesworthe**_

I lost track of time. People skittered out of the way as they saw (well more like heard) me coming. I can't be late to the reaping. My flip flops flew off as I ran, and I picked them up, keeping my sprinting pace.

How could I be so late? All I had to do was check the nets and get a little last minute training in. Since it may be the last time I may be near the ocean for awhile, I thought I might as fell go surfing. I grabbed my board, waxed it down, and started swimming out. The smell of salt tickled my nose and the water lapped at my feet. Gradually, I stood, perfectly balanced on my board.

From the board, I spotted some girls on the beach watching. They waved and seemed to be giggling among themselves. Smiling, I waved back. Okay, so after that, I started to show off. But I got so lost in what I was doing; everything around me seemed to be like nothing. I was at home, among the waves and fish. I didn't realize how late in the day it was getting or that the girls had left.

And now I was possibly going to miss my last chance at volunteering for the Hunger Games. I've trained for this since I was five. Back then, I didn't fully understand what I was actually training for but I kept to it. It was my decision, no one else's.

Since the second rebellion, what some call the Second Dark Days, others the Shadow of the Mockingjay (I honestly think the latter sounds more badass), District Four hasn't been as Career like as it once was. One and Two are still pretty hardcore, but Four has kind of dimmed. There are some of us who still train for the Hunger Games but it's more common nowadays to see someone be reaped and have no volunteers.

Rounding a corner, I bumped into a small girl. "Oh, I'm sorry," I said, helping her up. Taking her small hand, I recognized her as one of Lesley's friends.

"Its okay, Filler," she sniffled in that way that she does, seeming to always have a runny nose.

"_First the boys," _a voice rumbled from a speaker. Dammit, since when do they reap boys first? I jerked up and raced down the last stretch of street. I could see the crowd of District Four. There was no way I could make it through there. Instantly, I climbed up the side of one of the houses.

"_Nick Anaklusmos."_ I sighed in slight relief. Then I bit my lip, knowing how much of an ass I sounded there. Nick isn't the fastest walker. A few months ago, a shark had bitten off his leg while he was swimming. Nick isn't really used to the prosthetic one he has yet. Balancing myself, I hurried across the roofs, leaping from one to another.

Nick was walking up the steps now. Holding onto the edges, I dropped down into the eighteen year old section. My fedora fell to the ground, but I swiftly scooped it up, placing it back on.

"I volunteer!" I breathed, raising my hand. "I'm here, I volunteer," I repeated, pushing through the crowd. Nick stepped down, nodding in acknowledgment towards me. He understood what this meant to me. What this meant for all of District Four.

I'll be the one to survive these Games, and bring glory back to Four.

_**Brooke Liam**_

Waking up, the light streamed in through the crack in the ceiling above the window. We should probably get that fixed. Grabbing the curtain, I jerked them back, morning sunlight rushing through and lighting up the room. I stretched and flew back onto my pillow. Hello, reaping day.

My mom hates that word. Reap. Sounds too much like another no-no word in our house. You just guess what it is.

Brushing out my curls and dressing in a cute, pink, baby doll dress in my closet, I strolled out the house. I wasn't feeling too hungry for breakfast, and I did not want my breath smelling like fish this early in the morning. That's all we could afford in this damn district.

Upon stepping out of my house, I could already feel the adoring eyes of admirers on me. Kara sat waiting on a bench, examining her nails carefully. I walked up and covered her eyes from behind.

"Guess who?" I giggled. Kara answered with her own giggle.

"Ready to go Brooke?" she said through a grin. Dropping my hands, I slid in next to her. Her straight dark brown hair lay in a neat plait down her back, a few strands lying on the sides of her face in a cute manor. We stood and linked arms, making our way to the town square. I fluttered a hello to several devotees of mine. Some looked away shyly; others came over and chatted with us for a few minutes. This is just a typical day in the life of me.

Eddie (or as Kara jokingly calls him, my boyfriend of the week) came over and gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek. I wiped it off and made a face towards Kara who easily picked up on what I meant. He laid a hand on my hip and guided me over to his friends. I breathed in sharply. One of his friends included Jason.

They smirked at Eddie in that way only a friend would understand the message.

"Hello, boys," I said, nodding towards Jason specifically. He grinned in response, but didn't show his teeth. What did that mean?

Something must have caught Eddie and his group of cronies' attention, because they all sprinted off in a different direction. Jason stayed behind, watching them go. I casually stepped closer to him.

"You look nice today, Brooke," he said politely. Unlike most guys, his face remained on my face the whole time when we talked.

"Thanks," I said, my voice dripping with flirtation. He eased his hands into his pockets, his head tilting back.

Abruptly, the escort of the year called for the beginning of the reaping. Jason turned his head in the direction of the stage, then back to me. "See you later," he waved, walking in the direction of the fifteen year old section.

Nothing. I've been barking up that tree for over a year, and still nothing. He's never made a move or showed any interest towards me, let alone ask me out. Kara and I sometimes wonder if he's actually interested in girls. I've been stuck on that _just friends_ level with him for awhile.

Heaving a wary sigh, I pushed through the crowd to find Kara and made our way to the fifteen year old girl section. We eyed the crowd of boys, entirely bored with the standard speech they gave us. The escort for this year had a dress that looked like it was made of bubbles. You could awkwardly see through it somewhat to her pudgy body underneath. Kara made gagging gestures at the sight.

Finally, she announced the reaping names.

Swirling her name through the bowl, she found a paper which I guessed satisfied her.

"Nick Anaklusmos." I know that guy. He's kind of cute and has a really weird last name. He says it's some old foreign name from a long time ago. Yawn. Oh yeah, and a little while back, a shark ate his leg. That must have been gross. Imagining it made me not want to swim in the ocean for a week or two.

Right as he walked up the steps, a guy called out.

"I volunteer," he cried, rushing up to the stage. He sounded like he was out of breath. Upon being asked his name he proudly said, "Filler Charlesworthe, but don't let my name fool you. I'm not just some guy who's part of the background." Okay…that was not totally awkward.

"Okay, now the ladies," the escort said in a high sweet tone. She plucked the name out, her dress getting sort of in the way. Kara grabbed my hand and squeezed it nervously.

"Oh please," I whispered. "What are the odds of you being reaped?"

"Brooke Liam." I guess not as likely as me being reaped.

_**Filler**_

The girl, Brooke, walked up to the stage. She waved to many of the teens she passed, blowing kisses as well. She was a lot shorter than me, and I had to bend over a bit to shake her hand. We were than ushered inside the Justice Building to say our goodbyes. Mom and Dad walked in first.

They sat on either side of me. An enormous hand patted my back. "Good job, son," Dad thundered out. "Giving honor to the Charlesworthe name!" Mom stroked my hair gently, smiling proudly. Her face was slightly weathered, but she was still really pretty. She's my Mom, what else would I say?

Something suddenly occurred to me. "Where's Lesley?" My parents exchanged a worried expression, as if afraid to tell me something.

"_Yes?" _I pushed on, glancing from Dad to Mom and back.

"She's kind of mad at you," Dad said. "She didn't want you to enter, after all." I nodded in understanding. I honestly would have really liked to see her before I boarded the train to the Capitol.

We talked a bit more before the Peacekeeper said it was time to go. The two older blondes stood and left. I talked briefly to O'Sean, my neighbor and friend who planned on volunteering in a two years when he was 17, followed by my friend Riviero, who had won two years back.

"Remember, find an alliance but don't become too attached," he stated. "You don't want to trust them too much and wake up with a knife in your back. But you can't take on a whole group by yourself either." I listened to everything he said.

"I wish I were the mentor for this year, I could really get you some sponsors." I shrugged.

"Can't change that now."

_**Brooke**_

So many of those faces that came to say goodbye…I barely knew them. Most I didn't really care about.

Of course, there was Kara. I could tell her anything. But as each face came in and wished me a half-hearted good luck and goodbye, I couldn't help but wonder why they were here. When…if I die, sure, they may be a little upset. There lives would go on though. They'll just forget about me. I'll become a distant memory.

Which is worst though; the fact that people I don't care about said goodbye, or the fact that my Mom _didn't _say goodbye. I know she hates me. I've taken away her life, her childhood. Maybe when I'm gone, life would probably be better for her.

No, not when, if, Brooke, if.

I instantly smacked myself. Why are you thinking this way? You're the fabulous Brooke Liam. You can win the heart of any person you want, boy or girl, young or old. When you walk into the Capitol, people will fall in love with you. You'll be sponsored like crazy.

I held my head high. Then Jason walked in.

He sat down next to me. My mouth became instantly tongue-tied.

"Good luck, Brooke," he said, smiling in that way that can always cheer me up. "You'll charm the pants off any of those Capitol folks." Deep in my chest, I felt something quake. I began to rattle in my breaths, and soon, I had burst into tears. Jason appeared startled at first and awkwardly hugged me.

"Stay strong," he whispered. "You can do this. Winning the Games isn't just using brute force; it's about knowing how people work. You of all people know how people work."

Words poured out of me without me realizing it. "Why don't you like me?"

"What?" Jason said bluntly, skittering away from me.

Wiping my eyes, I repeated calmer, "Why don't you like me?" After a moment I added, "And I mean like me, like me."

The boy remained silent for a long time. "I do like you as a friend. But for me to like you, like you, as you put it, you need to like yourself."

I sniffled softly, my green eyes widening. "What do you mean?"

"I can tell, Brooke, that you hate who you are. You date people to make those feelings go away. To make yourself feel loved." He paused taking my hand, his blue eyes digging into me. "How can I love someone, who can't love themselves?"

The Peacekeeper came in at that moment. "Times up, time for the tribute to go." Jason leaned in and kissed my cheek tenderly. The Peacekeeper rolled his eyes and shoved Jason out the door.

Hours later, I woke up on the train, sweat drenching my clothes. My fingertips traced the spot where his lips had touched. The feeling was cold and soft, like a ghost.

**I never knew flirtation was a word before this. **

**And another hint, which sort of corresponds with District 4**

_What gives you life will take it away, and what takes it away, will give you life. _

**I don't think any one will get this; it could be a number of things. Well, not exactly you won't get it; just you won't get what it is specifically.**


	6. D5 Reaping: Shoot Me Now

***Note* Upon request from the sender, Kari Lockhart is now Dia Lockhart.**

**Whoa, sounded all fancy there.**

**And now that I'm reading over the submissions, I ****_really _****like Neda. Oh well.**

**_Kaeden Whitrow, District 5_**

"_How do I know you won't hurt me?" Neda tilted her head, thinking for a moment. I brought my knees in even closer than they already were, as if holding them so close will keep me from being wounded._

"_Because…I just won't. You'll just have to trust me." Her eyes, that strangely matched mine so perfectly, stared into me, a special sparkle in them._

_It may be dorky, but I stuck out my pinky. "Pinky swear?"_

_She nodded at me, smiling. "I pinky swear. No matter what, I'll be your friend. And I promise not to hurt you." I felt my heart begin to melt, washing over with warm. I knew I had fallen, and fallen hard._

For some reason, this memory occurred to me as I knocked on Neda's door. Wow, I was such a dork when I was fourteen. And I had such a crush on Neda. Maybe the memory was to give me courage for what was to come.

There was no answer. Pressing my ear against the door, I heard the heavy snores of Mr. Rosewood. Guess no one's up yet.

I felt around the doorframe until my hands brushed against something cold. The spare key gave way to rust on my fingers, and I had to jimmy it a little to get it to turn. As the door swung open, the distinct scent of alcohol reached my nose. When this guy wasn't trying to kill himself, he was drinking. Such an awesome father figure. No wonder Beverly ran off to District Ten or Panem knows where, right after last years reaping.

Tiptoeing passed Mr. Rosewood, who was hung over on the couch, I slipped down the hallway to Neda's room at the end. My hand pushed her door open from where it was slightly ajar. Neda lay sleeping soundly on her side, her strawberry blonde hair a tangle on her pillow. I sat down on her bed next to her, stroking some of the strands out of her face.

This woke her. I flinched away as she began to stir. "Rise and shine." I announced, quickly standing. Thankfully, she didn't realize I had been sitting. That would have been kind of creepy. Okay it was creepy.

"What time is it?" Neda mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Time for you to wake up." I gave her a playful nudge before leaving the room to let her change in privacy and to wake up Milo.

Turning around from closing the door, my stomach leapt up in fright. I quickly relaxed. "Milo, you should come with a bell, or something," I breathed. The boy stared up at me, arms crossed firmly across his chest. His eyes glanced momentarily to the door than back to me. "Oh, yeah. Dude you know I wouldn't do anything like that, we're just friends…."

"Likely story," he said, keeping a straight face. Milo took a step forward, his eyes narrowing. "I'm watching you, Mr. Whitrow. Always watching." The boy twisted on his heel and marched into the kitchen.

Milo can be scary at times. Way different from when I was 14. Definitely.

We had breakfast out by the time Neda finally wandered in. I nearly dropped my spoon when I saw her. The messy hair from before had been tamed and brushed to frame her heart-shaped face. A flowing mint green dress hung limply on Neda's slender body. Her mouth crooked up in her signature smirk.

"Milo gave you the once over leaving my room?" she asked, plopping down on the chair across from me. I nodded sheepishly.

"I just wanted to make sure my dear sister was safe," the boy, through a mouth of cereal, simpered. Neda smirked, grabbing the bowl we had laid out for her, and ate the cereal hungrily. Neda talked animatedly throughout, twiddling her thumbs every now and then. The topics spread from a vivid dream she had last night to how her dress didn't fit at all.

She usually gets like this when she's nervous, trying to avoid all thoughts or conversations that could lead to dwelling on the reaping. Neda talks a lot often, but on a day like this, she gets very _detailed _with her rants.

Milo, during an excruciatingly detailed speech about this mockingjay she found yesterday, held his two fingers together and stretched his thumb, making the gesture of shooting himself. Neda stopped mid-sentence, glaring at him.

"Would you like me to get onto the conversation of Olive?" she smirked. Milo's face fell and he quickly stood and placed his bowl in the sink. I glanced at the two in confusion. "Looks like somebody would rather hear my 'rant' on the mockingjay. Why can't I talk about Olive, the pretty girl I saw you talking to yesterday?"

Milo looked at me with pleading eyes. Maybe Neda was being a little unfair. I remember when Uncle Att used to tease me about girls. Usually, though, I'd just retort back with a comment on how he didn't have a job and was living in _my _house. That shut him up most of the time.

"Neda, it's getting late," I said. Her face paled and she stood, running her fingers through her hair. Milo casted a half-hearted thank-you smile towards me.

As we stepped out the door, Milo now dressed in a nice jacket with jeans underneath, I glanced sadly at Mr. Rosewood. Ever since Neda and Milo's mom died from some weird disease just over a year ago, he's been a complete reck. Tries to commit suicide every few weeks. The district has started up its own secret raffle on the final way he'll actually kill himself. It's made up of mainly Peacekeepers and District Officials, the people who end up on sight to report what was going on.

He now lay passed out on the sofa, beer bottle in hand. A hand knit blanket was draped over him.

_**Dia Lockhart**_

"Ready to roll?" Tristan asked, pulling his collar up against the sudden breeze. I nodded. Maggie was going to the reaping with a friend and Mom, since she had off from her multiple jobs today, she was taking care of Stella. No surprise there. Maggie, even though she's only eight, knows Mom's moods, and how she'll never hurt a hair on Stella's little head.

The wind whistled in my ears. A few strands of brown hair tickled my face, along with a few magenta ones. Nightlock may kill you, but mix it with a few other berries and so on and it makes an awesome hair dye.

Our conversations remained brief and long spaces of silence came and went. We were like this most of the time but the air was especially tense. Tristan respected the stillness, knowing how draining the reaping could be for me. He had been fond of Jess too….

I felt my fist clench at the thought. Every time I think of her, I swear, my hate for the Capitol grows. They tore Jess away from me. A thirteen year old girl, dead. Here's the salt in the wound; her goal was to make it to the age of fourteen. She died two days before her birthday, by the hand of a psycho from District 2. First chance I get, I'm blowing up that district.

Sorry, I'm sounding kind of, what, morbid, depressing? Well that's what the reaping does to you. The Games as a whole.

"Where're your sisters?" Tristan asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Maggie's with a friend. Stella with Mom." Tristan raised an eyebrow at me. "She's in a happy mood. Just got a new dose of drugs from her dealer."

My friend nodded austerely. The first droplets of rain began to fall. It soon turned into a full downpour. Kids around us sped up, heading towards the slight shelter canopies over the town square provided. Never thought you'd see people rushing to a reaping.

Tristan and I remained at our steady pace. We didn't mine the rain. I especially enjoyed it. My mood began to lighten, and I bumped into Tristan good-naturedly.

"_Raindrops keep falling on my head," _I sang, giving him a small smile.

"_But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turnin' red," _he continued on, picking up quickly.

"_Cryin's not for me."_

"_'Cause I'm never gonna stop the rain by complainin'."_

Finally, in unison, we sang, _"__Because I'm free, nothin's worryin' me."_ We laughed together.

A Peacekeeper soon barked, "Stop that nonsense!"

"Why should I?" I said defiantly back.

The Peacekeeper, I think his name was Preston or something, stomped up in front of me. "What was that?" he spat, a vain pulsating in his neck. I crossed my arms, giving the man a snarky grin.

"Why. Should. I?" I said firmly, enunciating every word. Preston opened his mouth to speak again.

"_Welcome to the 100__th__ annual District Five Reaping," _the mayor's voice announced. The announcement cut the Peacekeeper off.

"Well, got to go," I said, grabbing Tristan's arm and dashing off in the direction of the reaping. The angry roar of the man rang out from behind us, followed by the heavy steps of him running. Dragging Tristan a bit, we hastened into the crowd, splitting off to our pens. We exchanged humored looks. Then I sank into the mayor's droning voice, dread finally washing over me.

May the reaping begin.

_**Neda Rosewood**_

"Boys first," the rugged escort proclaimed. Her black hair fell all the way to the floor, harsh makeup highlighting her face. My hands shook. That was odd, they never call boys first.

The escort dug her hand into the bowl of names. Finding one I guess suited her, she cleared her throat, spitting some weird gunk out onto the stage. A bunch of the girls around me in the sixteen year old section gagged and shrieked at the sight. Such girls, this is why my best friend is a boy.

The woman paused, squinting at the name. "Milo Rosewood." Huh?

No, that's not right. But as I watched my brother walk to the stage, I felt my stomach sink. No, no, no, I can't lose him. He can't leave me behind with just Dad. I shoved through the swarm of people, not caring about the rules. They weren't taking my brother.

As I ran up the steps, a Peacekeeper grabbed me around the waist. "Only tributes are allowed onto the stage," he hissed harshly. I thrashed, trying to escape his grip. The call of "Volunteers?" went up. No, this wasn't happening. Through blurry eyes, I watched Milo stand on the stage, watching me sadly. Accepting his death.

Suddenly, I voice rang out. "I volunteer."

And suddenly, my stomach dropped even lower. My head spun and I almost passed out. Striding up to take Milo's place was Kaeden.

In my heart, I felt something splinter. Somehow, this seemed to much worse than losing my brother. And I hated myself for thinking that.

_**Dia Lockhart**_

Wow, that girl is a mess. She just darted from the pen next to mine, and had to be dragged away from the stage. Her expression appeared to darken when that other dude from the boy pen opposite mine volunteered. Probably her boyfriend or something. I feel like I should know her, the girl….

Snatching out the next paper, the escort chick (she had an awesome ass outfit on) read the next name.

"Dia Lockhart."

No, way. Silently, I found one foot moving in front of the other. No, I am not going that way. Yet I just kept moving forward.

Alright, I'm gonna die. I hope Tristan can take care of the girls. My Mom wouldn't even realize I'm gone.

-0-

Tristan wished me the best of luck. I hugged him tight. We've never liked each other _that way_ but we are still close. He's my best friend. I scuffed up his red hair. You know, he looks a bit like a fox. He says her gets it from some aunt on his mother's side.

My heart nearly shattered when Maggie and Stella came in. I sat there stroking their hair. We were surrounded by silence until the Peacekeeper came in and pulled them away. It wasn't even the full time limit.

"We still have more time!" I screamed, holding my sisters closer. I realized it was Preston standing before me.

"Sorry, deary, but the little girls have to go," he smirked. He lifted Stella up and tugged hard on Maggie's hand. Be gentle with them, I thought furiously. Without realizing it, I punched him right in the gut. Preston, his belly soft, but hard under that layer, doubled over, crying out in pain. "Help," he cried. "Tribute attacking me!"

A swarm of officials came in pulling the girls out of the room. My feet were swept out from underneath me and my face hit the carpet. It smelled really weird.

I was shoved out and told to wait in another room while Kaeden finished up his goodbyes. Probably making out with his girlfriend.

Five minutes later, a guy walked in. He looked like he was in his twenties, with dark shaggy hair and sea green eyes. Really hot.

"Are you here to tell me I'm free to go to the train and onto my awaited death?" I asked sweetly, blowing a piece of hair out of my face.

"I need to talk to you," he said. He spoke airily, as if his mind was somewhere else. I raised an eyebrow as if to say _go on._ "Don't look at everyone as an enemy. They are there for similar reasons that you are."

Taking this in, my eyes widened. "Are you telling me my name was reaped on purpose?" The guy nodded slowly, in his dazed way.

"Just…remember who the real enemy is, okay?" He said. "And tell the boy, Kaeden, anthrax isn't always detected by common doctors."

"What?" Why would he want to know that?

"It's easier to tell you. He's not even supposed to be in the games any way. We were able to save the younger boy by messing up a message. Well, kind of save him." The guy ran his hand through his hair, smiling at me. My heart fluttered. Damn, he was cute.

"Um, okay," I said. "And why are you telling me this?"

The guy tilted his head to the side, scrutinizing me. "You're a rebel." The sounds of heavy footsteps thundered in the hallway. He glanced over his shoulder at the door.

"That's my cue," he said lightly. "Good luck. When you get into the arena find water, and stay alive. Well, beware the water part. You can drink it if you get stung."

I watched him skeptically. "Um, okay…."

"Stay alive. An old saying a family friend of my parents' say a lot. My Mom actually named me partially after him. Mitchell." With that, the guy, Mitchell slipped out the door.

"What name did your Dad want?" I asked, not knowing why I wanted to know. He stuck his head in.

"My Dad didn't exactly have the head for giving names. Never met him."

**Sorry, this one came out really long. And I kind of did what I did in District 3. (Shrugs) Not sure about it, if it was good. Review please. And these things are really long. Most other Hunger Game fanfictions are shorter in the reaping, taking longer too. I apologize for that fact. I don't want other districts to be jipped on details so I'll just keep going like this. Its my first so, I'm learning how to work with it.**


	7. D6 Reaping: Big World, Little Me

**So apparently, I have vi****olated the rules of Fanfiction****.**_**"**__I would like to inform you that your story violates the rules of . Non-story chapters, character profiles, and interactive stories aren't allowed." _**Whoops. What I'm wondering is why they don't have a bulletin that says these Hunger Game SYOT's are not allowed. I'm not as deep as sponsors, though, as some of those writers, yet I'm the one who gets the message. I honestly think, with the sponsoring thing, I might explode with keeping track of points for each person, and I need my own free will on the characters. Once you submit, your tibute is mine (Muwahahahah!) **

**Okay, let's get down to business. First off; not sure if this will exactly pop up in the arena, but we'll have to see how it goes.**

_The singing stones will show the way._

**I kind of stole this idea from a book, but I believe it's based off of something real. If any of you have read Ranger's Apprentice, you'll know what I mean.**

_**Arianne Misham, District 6**_

Green. I need more green. Grabbing the empty cup, I rummaged through the kitchen cabinets and cupboards. Paint…paint…paint…no green paint. The storage unit in my room held no success in my search either. How can a whole house not have any green paint?

Walking down the hall to the stairs, I realized there was a small green bottle at the foot of the steps. A note was tied to it by a neat bow wrapped around the neck. Kneeling, I examined it.

_I noticed you were out. Hope this is enough until I can buy the weeks supply on Wednesday._

The writing scrolled across the page neatly, professional calligraphy. The string gave way easily, and I tucked the note in my pocket.

"Thanks, Father," I murmured, smiling at the bottle. Lifting it up, I strolled back to my easel, humming softly as I poured the green liquid into the cup. The brush dipped lightly into it and I brought it across the canvas, starting where I left off. Occasionally, I glanced up at the bundle of herbs on the table. While most people in the district rely on the medicine produced by the factories, Father preferred to use more natural substances.

Adding a last few touches, I stood back, comparing my work. Not bad. It would look better, though, if the setting was outside….

I shuddered at the thought. Soon I'd have to leave for the reaping. That meant crowds, noise, and the possibility of being whisked away to the Capitol to my certain death.

Father wouldn't mind if I just left my painting out in the open to dry. I pulled my smock off and threw it onto the table. My skirt was slightly stained with paint stains, and little specks decorated my arms. I shrugged. Not really dressing to impress.

Since I wouldn't see Father until the reaping (he had a bed-ridden patient he had to attend to this morning), I started off on my own. Right as I was about to leave, a thought came to mind. I rushed upstairs to my room, snatching my sketch book from under my pillow. A pencil stuck out from behind my ear. I always kept it there.

Okay, just step outside. I didn't move.

One foot, go ahead. Feebly I put my foot out, but quickly recoiled.

Five minutes later, I had managed to talk myself to the edge of our property. It had to take all my willpower not to run screaming back inside. Breathing, I forced myself to focus on the flowers on the lawn. Beyond that, most of the district was pretty bland.

Slowly, I started off towards the center of town. When I felt my eye begin to twitch and had the sudden urge to hide in a corner, my nose was deep in my sketch book, drawing whatever stand before me.

My rapid breathing eased and I relaxed a little. This is alright.

The world isn't that scary…well, it is. A lot.

_**Dorian Happens**_

"Unse, duck!" The blonde boy spun around from the station he was working at, his green eyes searching. His expression quickly flickered from confusion to fright. He dropped to the floor, throwing his hands up to shield his face. The circular blade spiraled over him, wrapping around in the air like a boomerang. And now back towards me.

I hid under the table, jamming hard on the button of my remote. Something finally clicked. The deadly blade dropped from the air, clattering against the steel table. Unse and I cautiously rose, hands held steady.

"I guess that doesn't pass inspections," my friend said, looking towards me. I gritted my teeth.

"At least you didn't die," I said, grabbing a pair of tongs and carefully lifting the sharp disc. "That would have sucked." Unse opened a heavy metal box, closing it as I dropped it in. He smiled crookedly at me.

"Yeah, maybe," he snickered. Checking his watch, he swiftly threw of his coat. "Dude, we need to go." I followed suit, following the taller boy to the stairs.

I don't even understand why the Capitol makes me go to the reaping. I've worked in this lab for five years. Not only does District Six specialize in medicines, it is dedicated to research. Our specific lab helps develop mutts and traps for the Hunger Games.

Partnered with members in District Three, we make some of the tricks for the games. Poisonous bugs or other creatures? Us. Man-eating squirrels? Bingo. Mutts specialized to have the similarities of former tributes? Our lab.

Man, I feel like a real jerk sometimes in this lab. We help create the "extras" of the Games. I'm helping kill innocent kids. All of a sudden I couldn't swallow. This is just life, I reminded myself. It would all happen even if you weren't part of it. It keeps you busy.

Heading up from the basement, I ran into a man in the entrance room. His lab coat was spotless and glasses slightly tilted on his nose, which framed his light blue eyes.

"Hello, boys," he nodded.

"Hi, Dad," I said back. Unse waved, grabbing his leather coat from the hook by the door. My dad sometimes joke that we're attached at the hip. I have to admit, besides the difference in hair and eye color, and slight height difference, we pretty much look, act and sound the same way.

"Ready for today?" Dad said softer. We nodded silently. Abruptly, a loud _boom _came from the basement. Smoke drifted up from under the door to the labs. "Got to go, I'll see you two later." Grabbing the fire extinguisher, he rushed off downstairs.

Unse and I swapped glances before shaking our heads. Dad can handle it. We headed off down the road. Exchanging minor chitchat, we walked along. Friends said hellos to us and we waved back. Most people aren't aware of our workings in the lab.

If they did, they'd most likely hate us. Period.

At one point we had to stop when a girl (one who Unse denies has a crush on him) skipped up in front of us, blocking our path. She twirled her hair around her finger and laughed at practically everything Unse said. I think her name was Rhiannon; she's in the grade below us so I'm not sure.

From behind me, a body bumped into me. I spun around and caught the girl before she fell over. Her book, on the other hand, went clattering to the ground.

"Are you alright?" I asked gently, holding on firmly to her bony arm. I of all people could hold this girl up, she was so light.

"Y-yeah," she stuttered, her body tense. I reached down for her book, trying to be helpful. But upon seeing it, my eyes widened.

When the book had fallen, it had turned open to a page. On this one, I recognized the gaunt face of the school gym teacher, Coach Hoops (no really, that was his name). His cap was pulled low on his head, whistle dangling about his neck. I swear, it was so spot on, if I had been a little farther back, I would have thought it was a black and white photo.

I lifted it up, examining the sketch. "Did you draw this?" As I got a better look of her face, I identified her as Arianne Misham. She was in the same grade as us, and very shy. Most of the time, her dark hair is in front of her face, her head in a book. That's probably why I didn't recognize her right away.

Her face bloomed red. "Uh, yeah, I did." I smiled at her.

"Could you do one of me sometime? It looks amazing." I added in jokingly, "You'd probably be able to make me look way better."

"If that's even possible," Unse came in, leaning on me with his elbow. These are one of the few times I hate being…_vertically challenged. _"Any one who even looked at that picture would turn to stone." Arianne laughed at this.

"Sure," she said. Her eyes casted downwards and gave me a thin lined smile. Then she stepped back and skittered off.

"That girl is weird," Unse stated as we watched her go.

I shrugged. "She lives in her own world. I guess not a lot of people get to go in."

_**Arianne**_

"Could you do one of me sometime?" Dorian asked, his voice talking softly. I guess he wouldn't know that I probably do have a sketch of him, somewhere in one of my other books, or maybe in this book.

"Any one who even looked at that picture would turn to stone," his friend, Unse, added. I snapped back to attention, not realizing they had been talking. I laughed, unsure of what I was supposed to say. They seemed un-phased by my laughter so I guess that was the appropriate reaction.

"Sure," I said. He smiled kindly at me. I knew Dorian was just trying to be polite, but I just wanted to leave. Darting out, I held my book closely to my chest, paying closer attention to where I was going. I found my way through the crowd of the reaping. I wobbled from one foot to another, watching everyone around me carefully. All the other fifteen year old girls were talking to each other about various topics. None of them even looked at me, let alone try to strike up a conversation.

A few minutes later, when the crowd and nose seemed to be at its peak, the mayor started up the general, "Welcome to the District Six Reaping," speech. I took in deep breaths, trying not to hyperventilate. Find your happy place.

Instantly, I imagined myself in Father's study, taking in the various scents of leather, herbs, and aging paper. My legs were tucked underneath me, and I sat reading, trapped in my own world. No, not trapped, that's not a good word. Escaping, that's better, escaping into my own world. Father, a pair of reading classes perched on his nose, spun around in his chair and smiled warmly at me. He had more hair growing from his chin then the top of his head, as we liked to joke. It was a speckling of black and gray, his beard neatly trimmed.

"Gentlemen, you're up," the steriotypical perky escort said. Her sharp, long nails plucked a paper from the bowl.

**_Dorian_**

Since when do boys go first? Huh, that's odd. Maybe it goes with the _Think Twice _Quater Quell. Dad had been working on some of the traps for it, keeping it very hush-hush. I was forbidden from seeing it. That didn't mean Dad didn't sometimes "accidentally" leave the blueprints out for them to feed my curiosity.

The escort cleared her throat (or was it a dude?) pausing dramatically. "Dorian Happens."

What. The. Hell. I'm gonna die.

_**Arianne**_

No. Not him. He seems so nice. Another reason why the Games are a terrible thing. Killing off such nice people, nice children.

I breathed slowly as the man (or was it a woman?) drew another name from the bowl. Please, don't be me, please don't be me. I crossed my bony fingers, biting my lip. "Arianne Misham."

No. No, she had to have read the name wrong. But as I felt the glare of the Peacekeepers on me and watched the crowd glance about the girl section, I knew there had been no mistake. With wobbly legs, like a foal walking for the first time, I stumbled to the stage, nearly face-planting myself on the steps. Dorian watched me with sad blue eyes. Everyone watched me.

The escort went on to read the Treaty of Treason and the official Mockingjay Surrender. So many people, all eyes up on me. So...many. Such a big world, and such a tiny me. My breath came in quick gasps. Black spots began to dance in my vision. The peppy voice of the escort faded away. I felt my eyes roll up into the back of my head and the world turned black.

**_So tada! Halfway through the reapings, yes! So here are my upcoming plans (Emphasis on _**_plans**);**_

**-Finish District Reapings Seven through Twleve, tying up a few loose ends involving some of the mysteries at Twelve, maybe creating a few along the way**

**-A look back home chapter, focusing on the familes of the reaped. It will come out better than it sounds.**

**-Welcome to the Capitol and Training Day, where I'll figure out some alliances, and work on the underlying storyline a bit.**

**-Interviews (?) and Training Scores**

_**I hope to get this all down by the time I go on vacation at the end of the summer.**_

_**Oh and if you're bored, check out this link on my profile to a Hunger Games parody of "I Wanna Go," it's fricken' awesome.**_


	8. D7 Reaping:Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

_**Not much to say today, so here's the District 7 Reaping!**_

_**(While writing this, my computer was on crack and shut off randomly. Let's just say thank Panem for auto save, because then I would have probably been wanted for murder this evening)**_

_**Trey Canter, District 7**_

"_Hello darkness, my old friend,_

_I've come to talk with you again  
>Because a vision softly creeping<br>Left its seeds while I was sleeping  
>And the vision that was planted in my brain<br>Still remains  
>Within the sound of silence"<em>

Not these creepy fourteen year olds again. I threw open my window, surveying the dense forest. Instantly, I caught sight of the redheaded one, followed by another, taller, girl. The third, who was harder to spot, twirled around behind them, leading the two on in that disturbing song.

I remember I had brought this one girl, Selene something, really hot, out to the woods. We had been sitting on one of the logs, which can really make your ass hurt, when she started screaming. Of course, girls don't usually start screaming randomly and pointing off into the distance.

Following her gaze, I saw what looked like a phantom floating and twirling off in the distance. My first instinct was run the hell away. The soft sound of laughter reached me and I knew it was one of those creepy girls. And I knew which one it was at that.

So here the three were now, skipping through the woods, four-o-clock in the morning. There was just enough light for me to identify them.

Not caring about the neighbors or the fact that it was 4 AM, I yelled, "Shut up, freaks!"

The two girls following the first froze, searching for the source of the sound. The one who looked like a phantom continued on for a few seconds. She then twirled one last time, facing me.

"_Shush_," she hissed. "People are sleeping." With that, she waved her friends on, carrying on her song, but just whistling this time, the melody becoming eerier. I slammed down the window.

Little weirdoes. The only reason they do this is because they don't have any boyfriends to keep them busy being girls.

"Are you alright?" Miles asked from behind me. I crawled back into my bed, lying back on my pillow.

"Just dandy," I answered, pulling the blanket up over me.

There was a long pause. "Are you ready for today?" My brother's voice was anxious, knowing of my plans for today's reaping.

"I don't know, my idiot twin brother keeps asking me stupid questions when I'm trying to go back to sleep." I sat up, showing Miles my annoyed look. His face, not nearly as handsome as mine, glanced down, his head shaking. I lay back down.

"Sorry," he said. "You don't have to be a dick about it, though."

I shot up, yet again. "What you call me?"

Miles remained silent. Either he was debating on telling me or too much of a wuss to say it again.

"Nevermind." His shaggy brown head laid back down on his pillow. Slowly, his breathing slowed and I knew he had fallen back asleep.

So what are my plans for today? Simple; I'm volunteering for the games, and I'm going to win. And every moron, twin or not, who ever called me a dick, will bow down at my feet, and show me the love I rightfully deserve.

Simple as that.

_**Reeda "Ree" Kails**_

"Who was that?" Wendy asked as she tugged on her frizzy red hair tied loosely in braids down her face. I stopped mid-whistle, skipping back a few paces.

"If I am not mistaken," I said, "I do believe that is Trey Canter." Sandy, her slinky frame towering over me, nodded slowly.

"Yeah, I think it was. My sister says he's a jerk."

I smiled crookedly at this. "I would tell you the things Mill says about him, but I am not that sort of person to say those sorts of words." We all laughed.

Eventually, we passed by Sandy's house. She hopped the fence easily, waving back at us as she climbed through her low window to her room in the basement. A low sigh escaped Wendy, nervousness evident in her tone.

"Reaping getting to you, I see," I said. Wendy yanked hard on her braid again.

"Sort of," she quaked, looking at me. I could read it in her face that she was, and she knew I knew. "Okay, it is." We stopped in place, standing behind my house. There was a little wooden gate I could use, but I just leaned comfortably on it.

I breathed in, taking in the wonderful oak scent of District Seven. "Don't dwell on it. Why worry on something that may or may not happen to you?" Slowly but surely, Wendy nodded.

"You're right," she finally said. "See you at the reaping."

I waved a silent goodbye, slinking into my back yard. I watched Wendy go, until she was a small red speck.

Of course, I have a bedroom inside the house. But it seems so cramped, and dull. Nothing like the outdoors. So with that in mind, I crawled into my hammock, which swung between two trees. It barely made a sound as I got on. I felt my eyes begin to flutter shut.

Softly but clearing, I began to whistle out my song, the words ringing loud in my head. My head felt heavy, and I swear I could hear the mockingjays carry on my songs long after I had fallen asleep.

-0-

"Wake up," a gentle voice said. My eyes flickered open to see Marietta standing over me, smiling. I sat up and stretched out my stiff muscles. Marietta hopped onto the hammock next to me, sending us swinging. She wasn't as nervous as some of the other children of the district. She still had a year to go before she had to worry about the reaping.

Without realizing it, I began to stroke her dark hair. We looked very much alike, with the same dark eyes, pale skin, and jet-black hair. She, however, was a bit more filled out, her body more curved to my bony shape.

I wandered out of the yard for a moment. Picking an apple off of one of the trees nearby, I chomped happily into it, walking back to our property. Tinna had come out as well, dressed in a charcoal dress that made her eyes look greyer. She sat on my hammock, busy braiding Marietta's hair into a neat French braid.

I observed how my older sister's hands shook slightly as she pulled a bit more hair to a strand. It was her last year of the reaping. I know once it's over, she'll be a bit more free. She works at the District Seven hospital and I can just imagine the slight cheeriness that will be added to her tone.

That's what I hate about the Games; people get all worked up about it. It distracts them from the rest of the world, and makes them miss the beauty of life and everything, just the simple small things. What's that point of living life if you can't live it happily?

Suddenly, Mill burst from the back door. He is the second oldest, and my only brother. And by his expression, he looked annoyed. Do not worry, random reader reading this. I believe that is his usual expression.

"Morning, sunshine," I hummed, throwing my apple up and catching it easily. He casted me his _look._

"What is that supposed to mean?" I grinned, rolling my eyes.

Tinna, being more sympathetic, smiled gently. "Well, you're being quite moody. Again," she added in, her smile shrinking.

Mill crossed his arms, leaning on a tree that grew from the center of the back lawn. "Whatever."

Okay, so Mill can be a real…jerk. But today, he was being especially moody. Just another side effect of the Hunger Games.

Marietta, completely oblivious to her siblings' tense voices, began humming to herself. We sat there for a little while longer, listening to the girl's cheery voice.

Papa walked out, hands in pockets. "Time to go, kids." We all stood up straight. I admittedly wasn't so nervous, just ready to face the future. Something, I am not sure of what, possibly the singing of the birds or the swaying of the trees, made me more cautious walking to the reaping.

Something is going to happen. Something big.

_**Trey**_

"There's your dorky ass brother," PJ, or JP, I'm not sure, snickered. I scowled at Miles. He didn't have nearly as many friends as I did, and has had the same girlfriend for _three months. _The girl must be desperate.

I feel sorry for my bro. He seemed to get all the bad genes. I mean, not trying to be stuck up here, but I'm fricken' awesome! And he's…so Miles. You can tell we're related, but everyone knows that I'm the better twin.

"You mean that loser?" I scoffed. "Never seen him before in my life." Everyone around me laughed. Off in the distance, I caught sight of a girl walking to the eighteen year old section. I cracked my knuckles, my sign of getting ready for a fight.

"Hey," I called, strolling up to her. She glanced around startled. Her dark hair swished by her shoulders twisted abruptly around. Something about her seemed familiar.

"So are you going to be cheering for me when I volunteer?" I said, walking up to her. She stepped back, seeming uncomfortable.

"Do I know you?" she asked cautiously. I shook my head, disappointed.

I threw my arms wide, turning to my troop of followers. "Did you hear that? Missy here doesn't know who the next Victor of District Seven is!" The teens behind me laughed. Feeling my control, I turned back to the girl.

"Who are you calling Missy, jackass?" she said, her eyes narrowing. "At least I don't wear stupid red contacts to make me look scary." The crowd behind me laughed. I glared at her momentarily, but quickly shook it off, gaining back my confidence. My contacts were awesome. Her family just couldn't afford something like it.

"Surely you don't mean that," I said, sliding an arm around the girl. A bony elbow instantly jammed itself between my ribs. I flinched back.

"Get off me, creep!" she demanded, looping a lock of hair behind her ear. In a blink of an eye, I had her pinned wrist behind her back.

"Who you calling creep, freak?" I shouted. I saw that satisfying flicker of fear in her eyes.

No one makes a fool out of me. No one.

_**Ree**_

I almost felt bad for the boy. He didn't even see Mill coming from behind….

_**Trey**_

Before I realized where my temper had taken me, what felt like a bull slammed into me side, tackling me to the ground. The crazed being and I wrestled a bit, when he finally got on top and held me down by my shoulders. I should have been able to throw this twerp off easily, such a small bony thing, but he had a crazy drive to him. I finally saw his face.

Mill Kails. Strange, his name is so similar to _Miles._

The blows came in hard, a certain hate burning behind them.

"No one-" _Hit._

"Touches-" _Hit_

"My-" _Hit._

"Sister!" With that stroke, I grabbed his wrist and shoved him off of me. By then, a swarm of Peacekeepers had come in, pulling us apart. Mill spat hard, were it landed right in my face. Enraged, I surged forward from the Peacekeepers grip, and with his arms pinned to his side, I nailed him right in the eye.

I could feel the thousands of watchful eyes on me, not only of the district, but of all of Panem. As a young Peacekeeper pulled me gruffly away, a camera was shoved into my face. I smiled into it, knowing how sexy I must look, fresh from a fight.

They separated us, but didn't really notice or care that we were still in close proximity, being in the same age group pen. And when they called the name for the unlucky boy, I volunteered proudly. I made sure to smile right at Miles, as well as Mill. The two stood right next two each other.

It made me wonder for a second; were they friends? I didn't even know. I wasn't surprised to see that I didn't even care.

_**Ree**_

Mill really flipped out when that Trey started talking to Tinna. And my point is proven yet again that Trey is words that I'd rather not say, and Mill has a very harsh person.

I was not at all surprised when the boy went up and volunteered. The escort, on the other hand (a blue-yes, blue- man, with orange hair) widened his eyes in surprise.

"It appears we have a volunteer!" he said in a high pitched squeal.

"Trey Canter!" he announced. The escort slightly scowled when he didn't let him ask his name.

"Ah, yes, here is Trey," he said. "Onto the girls!" There was a long, unsettling silence.

"Reeda Kails."

Shaking my head, I walked silently up to the stage. Trey glared fiercely at me with blaring red eyes, what I presume were contacts.

I hope the arena is dark. I love the dark.

_**Trey**_

Now I know why that girl from earlier was familiar; she looks just like the freak. The small girl walked silently up to the stage, nodding at me. I leered at the girl, turning to face the crowd. She'll be easy to kill. Like snapping a twig.

As we leaned in to shake hands, I hissed, "Ready to die, freak."

Dauntingly, she smiled, as if I had said a sad old joke.

_**Tada! I did a lot of POV swapping, but I think this chapter came out well.**_

_**Once I finish up all the Reapings, I hope to have a little questionnaire or something like that for you to review. Pretty much, just asking favorite characters, least favorites, most likely blood bath, the one you think is going to kill the most. I'll have it all set for District 12.**_


	9. D8 Reaping: Maybe

**Ah, seddie, the wait is now over. **

_**Rocker Tripp, District 8**_

"Rocker Tripp." No way. Timidly, I marched up to the stage. Okay, so I may be on the larger side (but not in a good way) but I'm only thirteen. A kid under the age of fifteen usually doesn't do to hot in the Games. This officially sucks.

The escort, a perky girl with so many piercings, I swear she's made of metal, gestured towards me. Suddenly, in the space of (hold on, checking my imaginary watch…28 seconds), my life has pretty much changed forever, and I may not have much of it left.

This morning felt like a blur. I woke up to the steady snoring of my younger brother. I hit him with a pillow, hoping to shut him up. There was a long pause in which I thought I killed him, but then he sat up, glaring at me. We had breakfast and fought over something that seems incredibly stupid now.

I shook my head, coming back to the present. I found Drew in the crowd of District 8, staring with wide, sad, brown eyes. We are always pulling the stuck-up-I'm awesome-and-better-than-you game but his eyes were glazed with fear and grief. Now I'm about to play a different kind of game from our usual antics.

One that may lead me six feet under.

I remember (well, I don't, but I hear stories of it) when there was that rebellion came around. Shadow of the Mockingjay, they call it. People were shocked to find that District 13 was still striving, underground. My family wasn't as surprised. My great-grandparents were refugees from there (strange, refugees coming _from _District 13). They would know the real story behind its (fake) detonation.

The escort, her hair a metallic gold, swept it behind her shoulder. Her hand dove into the girl bowl and plucked a name out. A sudden wind came in and drifted it out of her hand.

"Whoops," she said, her fingers laced with rings, brought her hand up to her mouth in a lady like way. "The poor gal won't be lucky enough to live for the glory." The small slip fluttered by my feet. Come on, how could I _not _look at it? Nonchalantly, I stepped lightly onto it, sliding my foot with the paper towards me. No one noticed.

The escort placed hand in the bowl again, pulling out another slip.

"Allie Manson," she chirped.

From the sixteen year old section, a skinny, medium height girl walked out, looking unsure and upset. She stood next to me. Her lips pressing hard together, her blue eyes glistened wet. The escort went on to call for volunteers. The girl, Allie, closed her eyes, refusing to open them. I understood how she felt, that knowing feeling, aware of how no one would ever raise their hand. What if she had a sister who can easily volunteer, but was too scared for herself to do it?

I knew no one would ever volunteer. I even made it clear to Drew that, when he comes of age, he should never -_ever- _volunteer for me, and if he did, he'll be going into that arena with two broken legs. Looks like I don't have to worry about that now.

We listened quietly as the escort read the standard Treaty of Treason and Mockingjay Surrender. I glanced sideways at the girl, tears now streaming down her face.

"Hey," I whispered harshly. "Don't let those Capitol morons see you cry." At first she seemed slightly offended by my words. But as the words seeped in, she stood straighter, wiping her cheeks, sniffling one final time. A melancholy smile swept across her face.

As we shook hands, I felt a soft squeeze from her grip. Something about her seemed real, not like the other people who get into these games. I saw a good-person, a good friend.

_**Allie Manson**_

"What are you looking at, Allie?" Scarlett squeaked. My first instinct was to snap my pendant closed, tuck it in my shirt, and say, "Nothing."

After a long pause, though, I slipped off the necklace, showing to the small, blue-eyed girl. "Is this you?" she said, not taking her eyes off of it as she plopped down into my lap. I laughed.

"No, it's of," my voice choked on the word, "Mommy." I chuckled to myself. When I was younger, people used to think Mom was my older sister, I'm serious.

Scarlett cocked her head. "She's pretty." I stroked the girl's soft brown hair. She would never know the love of a mother. And possibly forget the love of a sister.

Sometimes, I resented my sister. She's the reason our mother is dead. But no matter what, at the end of the day, I couldn't help but wrap my arms around her. I never wanted to let her go.

"Yeah, she is," I said. I decided not to correct myself and say _was._ Scarlett looked up at me, poking my arm.

"Why are you so sad?" she said, her eyes gleaming with concern. I glanced at the door, knowing my last few moments with my sister were coming to a tragic end. I tried to swallow, but I couldn't. I could feel the tears welling up.

Biting my lip, I smiled. "I'm going on a long trip." I said carefully. "To a magical world. But I may not come back." Scarlett's eyes sparkled sadly.

"Why?" she asked. I nearly burst when I heard the pain in her voice. Tears welled up in her eyes and began to spill over. I cupped her face in my hands, wiping away a tear from her freckled face.

"Because there are bad people who don't want me to stay here," I said. "And I have to fight…." My voice trailed off.

"Dragons?" The girls asked. I smiled at the word.

"Yes, dragons." My throat felt raw.

"Will you be on TV like those other people?" Her eyes stared up into me. I couldn't answer. Scarlett shook my knee. "The ones who have booboos and go to sleep? And a heliwopper comes in and takes them home?" She couldn't even pronounce the word right.

One day, she'll know the truth. But not today.

A Peacekeeper came in and gently picked her up. She kicked and tried to break free of his grasp. Soon she began screaming and sobbing.

"ALLIE!" She screeched, tears staining the Peacekeeper's shirt. "DON'T GO!"

I waved sadly to her. "I love you, Scarlett." The small girl tried to head butt the man, slamming her fists into his chest, but the attempts were futile. She was carried out. I heard her scream all the way down the hall, by what I guess, another Peacekeeper. The one who grabbed her watched me with sad eyes.

Words tumbled out of me before I could stop them. "You people make me sick! Tearing apart families like this, how do you find such pleasure in it?" The Peacekeeper, glancing down the hallway quickly, shut the door, sitting down next to me on the sofa.

"This hurts me, too. Probably not as much as you, but it still hurts. Taking a sister from a sister, a friend from a friend, father from a daughter." His voice was soft and soothing and I relaxed. Hot air licked at my face, and I realized it was wet. I quickly wiped away the tears.

"I know you're a nice girl with a big heart, who'd do anything to protect her family," he said. "And I hope you make it out of that arena alive." His blue eyes smiled at me. Something about his words made me want to listen. He stood, nodding solemnly at me.

"What are the chances of me making it out alive, though?" I asked as he opened the door. "1 in 24, and I don't stand as big of a chance as the Careers." Then another thing struck me. "I don't remember you ever being in District Eight."

For a fraction of a second, there seemed to be a flicker of conflict in his face. And I knew he _wanted_ me to see that conflict. "Let's just say the chances are greater this year. And I need to leave soon from the district, just to let you know." My curiosity ate away at me, but I know he had already said too much.

In the Hunger Games, you should always think twice, as the saying goes.

_**Rocker**_

They escorted us into the train. No one really paid attention to me (go figure) and I slipped the flyaway paper out of my pocket. A dirt covered print of my boot was smeared across it and the writing slightly smudged. I hid it quickly in my sleeve as a Peacekeeper glanced my way. As they led us into the train, I retreated to my quarters. Wow, they even had a lock on the door. It was one of those chain ones, but still.

Hooking that into the slot, I crawled onto the plushy bed. I pulled the slip from my pocket. Why was I obsessing over a girl who just got lucky? Just, something in my gut wanted to see it, knew I _had _to see it. Wiping of specks of dirt, I squinted at the name, trying to make it out. It didn't help that I was slightly farsighted.

Finally, I could read it. My jaw dropped.

_Allie Manson. _

What were the odds? (Wow, I just set myself up for a really bad pun, didn't I?) It's like she was destined to be in the Hunger Games.

Or supposed to be there, no matter what.

There have been rumors that the reapings are fixed all my life. I never really thought much on them. Not until now.

What if I was in the Games for a reason too? That the Capitol wanted me dead?

I needed a second opinion on this. And there was only one person who I could talk about this with. Our escort was hopeless, and I didn't think Forrest Trump, our mentor of the year, was any kind of Haymitch Abernathy.

I went about my business from there. When dinner strolled around, I knocked over a cup of some weird beverage. Some sort of beer from a root. As Forrest bent down to pick it up and the escort _tisked_ me, saying District Seven has _such bad manners_ (you should listen to yourself sometimes lady), I slid the slip of paper over to Allie, not even looking at her. I felt her confused gaze at me, but I just shook my head, a gesture that said not to ask.

She slithered it into her lap, peeking down at her. She took a sip of her drink to hide this fact, but as the words on the paper processed into her head, she spat out, hitting the escort square in the face.

I couldn't help it; I mean, no matter how bad the situation is, seeing one of those Capitol snobs get pelted in the face by the cute (I don't like her that way, she was admittedly cute. Hey, there's like a three year difference between us!) girl sitting next to you, you can't help but laugh.

The escort didn't think it was so funny. "Clean this up!" she demanded. Allie slowly stood, turning towards the bathroom to get towels. I grabbed her wrist, tugging her to my room.

"No thanks!" I called.

_**Allie**_

"So, you think the reaping was rigged?" The younger boy nodded, the slight fat under his chin wiggling a little. Sorry, I just had to point that out! Wow, I sound so mean.

The idea seemed strange…but not absolutely crazy. I thought up the Peacekeeper, and quickly told Rocker of what he told me. The boy ran a hand through his brown hair.

"Do you think there'll be multiple winners this year?" he asked.

I paused. I answered, my voice dropping to a whisper, "It sounded like that, but I have a feeling that's not what he meant." There was a long silence.

"Do you think he was a rebel?" Rocker's question hung in the air.

"Maybe."

**Yay! 2/3's of the way there, almost done with the Reapings! I liked this chapter. The pieces of the puzzle or going to be falling into place for the tributes. And, of course, they should always think twice if the want to make it out alive.**


	10. D9 Reaping: Jinx!

**As you've probably have seen, I have cut out some of my chapters. You can read why in Chapter One. I get what there doing, that they like to follow rules. Looking back, the reviews I got weren't actually sarcastic; I've just been really annoyed lately, sorry, about that. I thought that when I deleted the chapters, all the submissions would be deleted so I saved them. But they weren't so yay. **

**Random fun fact; these are the only two twelve-year-olds in the 100****th**** Hunger **

**Games.**

**And you know what's weird? Going through other fanfiction stories and finding characters from the one you're writing in their story. I like writing new ones for other stories when I submit one, keeping the characters original.**

_**Kyla Sprit, District 9**_

"_Hush, little baby, don't say a word. Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don't sing, Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring…."_

I sang the song softly to Bentley. His crying grew softer, his breathing steadier. I rocked the two year old on my shoulder, enjoying his soft hair tickling my face. Barely any one remembered the original words for the song. Mama had taught me them.

Papa was in one of his "moods" again, and I could hear him throwing stuff around in the other room. Bentley couldn't remain still while sleeping, whimpering in his sleep and tossing fretfully. I stroked his dark hair. The small boy was underweight for someone his age. I took care of him as best I could, but he still is small. I'm pretty small too, only seventy-one pounds.

Placing the boy in his crib and pulling the softest blanket we owned over him, I changed swiftly into my reaping dress. I felt like a little girl playing dress up with her mother's clothes. The frilly yellow dress had to be a size too big. If I was properly fed, I'd probably fit into it easily.

I swallowed nervously. Today was my first ever reaping. Nervously, I brushed my fingers through my hair. Getting out one last tangle, I skittered through the house to the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" a gruff voice growled. I stood frozen with my hand on the rough doorknob.

"Today's the reaping," I answered timidly and without turning, my voice a mere squeak.

The heavy thumps of Papa's footsteps thundered against the wooden floors. His heavy hand landed on my shoulder, jerking me around.

"Without remembering to buy food yesterday?" His eyes glared angrily onto me. I fought to find the right words, incoherent words sputtering out of me. His grip tightened, and I winced nervously.

"We don't have enough money," I said quietly.

Suddenly, I was on the ground, my face stinging. I rubbed my cheek and stared up at Papa with blurry eyes. His hand was still raised in the air.

"Get food," he said. With a final hard kick, he walked to the living room, falling onto the couch and watching television.

I stood up shakily, taking a few seconds to get a firm grip on the knob. I nearly tripped out the door. For the past two years, I normally carried Bentley during the reaping. Since I was now at the age of reaping, I couldn't bring him. I knew Papa wouldn't even bother showing up, leading the Peacekeepers to come reprimand him for it, I had no choice but to just leave him in his crib. I felt like an awful sister.

Quietly, I walked along the path to the center of District Nine. The sky matched the mood in the air, a dismal grey. People walked in silence. No one glanced at me, which I didn't expect to happen any way.

As I began to come closer to the square, a tall boy who looked not much older than me emerged out of a _sewer hole_ from the ground. He dusted himself off, glancing around to make sure no one saw him. His dark eyes landed on me.

"Did you see that?" he said, pointing towards the metal lid. It looked really heavy; I would have never been able to pick that up.

"Um…" I stammered out, unsure of what to say. His dark hair fell in front of his eyes, but he nudged the strands back.

"Let's just pretend you didn't, okay?" Silently, I nodded, edging away from the boy.

I took my place within the pen of other twelve-year old girls. Most were stiff silent, others chattering anxiously.

The mayor of the district read the standard welcome speech. Her voice trembled a bit. Her son was among the fresh twelve year olds of the year. She introduced the escort, our typical flamboyant man with colorful clothing, straight out of a Capitol catalogue.

"Boys first," he said. There was some distressed muttering within the crowd.

The escort's hand twirled in the bowl and he giggled while doing so.

"Quinten Wilkens!" he cried. The mayor seemed to breathe out a pent-up breath. I knew it wasn't her son. I couldn't help but think, though. She was glad someone else's son was entering, glad her son was safe while another's could most-possibly die.

A strawberry-blonde boy walked up, his head held high. He gave a small smile to the cameras he passed and didn't say a word. Squinting, I focused in on his freckly face and ears that stuck out. Quinten was the same age as me, but looked younger. We weren't in the same class, since he advanced into the next grade level when he was nine.

"Isn't he adorable folks?" the escort tittered. I swallowed nervously as his hand dove into the girl bowl. The man giggled one last time before announcing the girl's name.

"Kyla Sprit!"

No.

I walked up to the stage in a haze. I'm going to be in the Hunger Games. Me, Kyla Sprit. And I will most likely die there too.

I am so sorry, Bentley.

_**Quinten Wilkens**_

"You need to carry the one," I pointed out. Tomas glared up at me.

"I was getting to that," he growled. Swiftly, he wrote the two, continuing on with the problem. He finished (with the wrong answer, mind you) he snapped closed his workbook. "Alrighty, I'm done. Can we please go to our awaiting doom now?"

"Alrighty isn't a word," I said promptly. "And your answer-"

"What are you, my wife?" he said, shoving his pencil in his pocket. I crossed my arms, rolling my eyes.

"_What are you, my wife?" _I mimicked. Phillip chuckled softly, but I knew it wasn't from the mocking line. He found it quite funny when the two of us bantered at each other.

I had come over early before the reaping to help Tomas with some work for school. Even though I was a year younger than everyone in my class, I was still the smartest. Phillip came in a close second.

Tomas shook his head. "I swear, Ollie is probably more mature than you." The person Tomas referred to is my little four year old brother, Oliver, otherwise known as Ollie.

I opened my mouth to answer, but Tomas just jumped up out of his chair. "Race you two to the town square!" Instantly, I bolted towards the door. The other boy and I shoved a bit before I squeezed passed him into the road. I was smaller, which also meant lighter. Tomas followed close at my heels as we raced down the cobblestone road. People leapt out of the way. Some glared at us, obviously not in the mood.

The sky gloomed over our heads. Nevertheless, I sprinted on. Victoriously, I stopped by the only tree in possibly the entire district. I watched this movie made a long time ago, and the people who created it had this general idea that District Nine had aliens or something in it. Extremely stupid. Of course, they never knew there would one day be a District Nine, but it still was a horrible movie.

"Ha, I won!" I howl, punching the air. Tomas, breathing hard, cracked a sideways grin.

"That's what you think." I crossed my arms.

"I was here before you, though!" I said, stomping a foot in frustration. "And you know it."

"Of course," he said with a smirk. "But ask Phillip what his view of the matter is." Suddenly, I noticed a dark figure in the tree above me. The tall boy dropped down.

"Looks like I win, boys," he said.

My jaw dropped in disbelief. "That's not possible!" I thought for a moment. "You have a secret passageway, don't you?" Phillip shrugged.

"He probably swam in some toxic waste and now has super sonic speed," Tomas piped in. "Or teleportation. For all we know, he can control time."

"Let's get to our spots," I said. If I didn't shut him up now, he'd go on forever. Solemnly, the two nodded and we split off into our areas. The mayor started up the "Welcome to District Nine Reaping!" and so on. Following the vocalizations, (where the mayor's voice kept cracking nervously) the overly gay (you can take that line whichever way you want), pulled the first name of the boys. This stunt was obviously supposed to play along with the _Think Twice, _Quarter Quell.

This, if were too dim to realize it, was my first reaping. My stomach dropped a nit nervously, though, I don't know why. My name was only on one slip of paper among thousands. What were the odds of me being called?

…I just jinxed myself, didn't I?

"Quinten Wilkens." Yep, I did.

_**Kyla**_

We shook hands. The boy was a little taller than me, but not by much. His face looked confident, but when I looked into his eyes I saw it all.

He was scared. Absolutely scared.

_**Quinten**_

Mom and Dad hugged me tightly. I tried the push them off me but it just made them hold on tighter. Ollie didn't fully understand what was going on, but he still held me tight, his sweet face pressed against my chest as I held him on my lap.

"I can do this," I said, smiling at the two. "I'm probably smarter than every tribute in that arena." Mom smiled sadly at me. She was a school teacher, and she helped me get to where I am today.

Dad wrapped an arm around me. I steeled myself. He was always going on these packaging business trips, and I rarely saw him. The man is always trying for those, "Let's reconnect days." Do I look that stupid to you?

After they left came Phillip. As he sat down, his expression looked different than it usually does. The boy is really mysterious, and he's a little harder to read than most people. That's probably why I hang out with him. Most people are so predictable, so easy to read. So explains my two friends; Tomas, the loud, random, motor mouth, and quiet, understanding, mysterious Phillip.

So right now, Phil appeared to be…angry. With me? I saw a flicker of another emotion too. Guilt. I'm positive it was guilt.

"You alright?" I asked. The boy glanced up from his thoughts, his eyes clouded over.

"I'm sorry," he said finally.

I pause awkwardly. "Um…I forgive you?" This kid wasn't making any sense. Phillip shook his head, clearing his thoughts. "Dude, it's alright. You didn't pull my name from the reaping bowl. I can totally win this-"

"You don't get it," Phillip snapped. "Quint, this is the Hunger Games. You're only twelve years old. And it _is _my fault your name was called."

Angrily, I stood. "What do you mean? You don't think I'm smart enough to win? The Games isn't just about brute strength you know, there is some strategy involved." My words began to tumble down, coming out angrier. "And is this some sick joke? Did you rig the bowl or something?"

Phillip stood, and being over a head taller than me, he actually looked kind of…scary. "No, the Capitol did! It's a message to the rebels. 'Stop trying, give up. We will always be superior.'" I shook my head.

"And killing a twelve year old will get them there?" I said, raising an eyebrow. In a fit of frustration, Phillip kicked the sofa.

"You are possibly the stupidest smart person in all of Panem," he yelled. With that last word, it all clicked into place.

"I'm in the Games because you're a rebel?" I whispered. "Because the way to get to you is to kill me?" Phillip didn't answer, but remained quiet.

A Peacekeeper pushed open the door, telling his time was up.

_**Kyla**_

We sat on the plush sofa of the train, watching the recap of the reapings. Quinten stared off, his mind elsewhere. I paid close attention.

Certain people stuck out in my head; the boy from District Two, who strode up to volunteer for another boy, who walked with metal poles attached to his arms. A pair of siblings from District Three. A girl who passed out, right there on the stage, from District Six. My reaping went by, and I watched my tiny figure walk up to the stage and shake hands with Quinten.

My eyes widened at District Twelve. Quinten slammed his feet to the ground from where they were propped up on the armrest. I was surprised, but his mind seemed to go into overdrive. Without another word, he stood and paced a bit, before retiring to his room for the evening. I watched the reaping till the very end.

After the boy had been reaped, they continued with the girl, who walked up to the stage in near tears, still trying to look strong. As they shook hands, the boy looked up. You had to pay very careful attention to see it. He had rocked back and looked ready to push the girl down to the ground.

At the very edge of the image, you saw the blur of something in the air. The set soon went to static, announcing "Technical Difficulties."

I stared at the screen for a long time after that. The mentor patted my back gently. I knew she knew I was gong to die.

Watching every tribute, I promised myself – _no,_ I promised Bentley- that I would make it out of that arena alive, no matter what.


	11. D10 Reaping: Purple Eyed Pixy

**I made a new Chapter one… again.**

_**Tanya Ride, District 10**_

"Watch it, kid," Clinton barked. I skittered back. This place was way too crowded.

"Uh…um, I-I'm sorry," I spluttered. Avoiding the other kids in the hallway, I finally managed to make my way outside.

Instantly, the sun beat down on my face. Megan sat by the dusty edge of the road, her brown hair drifting down to the middle of her back. She must have heard the door open and sudden rush of noise from the inside because she turned, nodding towards me.

"Hi," I said, offering a hand to her. She took it kindly, dusting her bottom off once standing.

"Hey, Tanya," she smiled softly. Her dress hugged her body closely, a pretty blue that brought out her eyes nicely. She pressed her glasses higher up her nose.

As I glanced down at the ground, I smiled. "Nice shoes, Meg." The girl smirked. Her shoes were a beat up pair of her old boots that she wore on the ranch with the cattle. We stared at each other for a moment, and started laughing.

Several people exited the orphanage, kids of all ages. The littler ones avoided me, giving a wide berth between where they walked and where I stood. I guess I scared most of them.

"So," Megan said as we walked. "I read the book you leant me and it was amazing!" We walked down a steep hill, trying not to fall. "That Suzanne Collins woman is a wonderful writer."

I laughed. "Yeah, she is. Now there's this other book too, written by this guy named James Patterson…." We talked in low voices, not being too boastful with our words.

"Hey, Ride," a voice called. I turned, a dust cloud blocking my view a bit. Through it, I saw a tall figure, followed by two other ones. Megan grabbed my arm, pulling me back.

Just as she did that, I recognized Jeb and his two cronies running in our direction. He was a year older than us and a complete jerk face.

"Hello, ladies," he said. Megan just twisted on her heel, ignoring the bunch. I followed suit, but upon hearing the light thuds of his boots, I dodged down. I knew he would try to lay an arm on my shoulder, and I watched as it flew over my head. Jeb stumbled forward a few steps, tripping and pulling Megan down with him. His two cronies, Flick and Bevis (I do hope those are nicknames) giggled amongst themselves.

My friend rolled onto her back, holding her knee. I saw a flash of red and my eyes widened. Kneeling, I took hold of the tattered edge of my dress and tour off a piece.

"Can you not be such a jerk?" I demanded, wrapping the fabric around Megan's bloody knee. Jeb picked up the jagged rock that had done the job of slicing Megan, as well as her glasses. His face paled, handing over the frames, only to skitter back a few feet.

"What?" Megan asked as I helped her up. She hobbled towards the poor boy. His face was a pallid white. Then I realized what was wrong.

"You don't like blood, don't you?" I asked quietly. Jeb stared at me, swallowing hard. Do I really scare people that easily? I mean, I may look a bit odd, but I'm not a monster. Megan just says it's because I'm "just so mysterious." I honestly think it's the first.

Jeb stood. "Let's roll guys," he said. The two looked like they didn't want their fun to end. The taller boy casted them a glare.

"See ya, losers," Flick barked with laughter. The group walked off. Jeb sent back one last fleeting look, then just continued on.

"He likes you, you know," I stated. Megan widened her eyes.

"Why would you say that?"

I shrugged. "I just know."

_**Drale Shetler**_

"And then you plie," I heard Arum say. I walked into the living room to find Matt with his arms out, feet together, knees bent, replicating my sister. Leaning back on the wall, I crossed my arms to watch. Knix walked in from her room, but, upon seeing the sight before her, turned back around.

"Then you go into releve," Arum said, standing on her toes. "And turn." Matt did as the girl did, and he twirled halfway around to find me holding in laughter. I clapped.

"Bravo," I said. He went back to flatfoot, his face turning slightly red. Arum, enjoying the attention, put a foot behind her and curtseyed.

"Thank you," she said humbly, in the way she thought a ballerina would. I shook my head at the boy.

"You're such a lovely dancer," I chuckled. He threw an arm around me, pinning me in a headlock. I swiftly elbowed him, slipping out from under his arm. Arum squealed, hopping onto the couch. The two of us grappled a bit until I could slip my arms underneath his.

"Eh-hem," Father's voice thundered. I quickly dropped my friend, standing up straight.

"Sorry, Father," I said. The man gave me a grim smile.

"I don't want any roughhousing in this house, understand?" He swung a finger up to Arum. "And you get off the couch."

"Yes, sir."

Father nodded and continued on down the hall. Arum hopped down to land on her butt. We remained quiet until the distinctive _click_ of Father closing his door reached us.

I had spent the morning helping round up the cattle to get some last minute work in. My hair was still dusty, along with my boots. I figured I wasn't that bad, and didn't think to change.

Drew appeared from her hiding spot behind the couch. "Is he gone?" she asked timidly. Her choppy brown bangs fell in her eyes.

"Yeah, you can come out," I said. The four year old climbed up onto the couch, her feet dangling off. "Did we scare you?" Drew nodded.

"We're sorry," Matt and I said together. The girl sniffled.

"It's okay."

Knix walked in, humming to herself. Her short hair flicked up at the ends and she wore a cotton dress.

"Can we leave now, please?" she asked, holding her head up tall. I sat on the couch, pulling Drew onto my lap.

"We have to wait for Mother and Father," I said, sinking comfortably into the leather seat. Knix groaned.

"We can sing a song until they come in," instantly, I, Knix, and even Arum shouted, "NO!" We all knew where it would lead, and it would just end up with Matt tied and gagged.

-0-

"Good luck, today," Mother whispered, hugging Knix and I tight. We both glanced at each other.

"Mom…." Knix choked.

"Can't…breathe…."

The woman soon let go of us. "Sorry," she sniffled. She gave us one last smile and walked towards where the rest of the district stood, leading along Drew. The girl waved back at us.

Matt stood by us, arms crossed. "I wish my Mom was like that," he murmured. "All she does is hangout with a different guy every night." Knix glanced at me with wide eyes.

"Okay, you're going to your section," I commanded, shoving her in the direction of the thirteen year old pen. These things make me think of us as cattle.

"Sorry," Matt said, giving me a small _sorry_ smile.

I just shook my head. His green eyes sparkled. "Just go." We went to our section, listening to the mayor start up the speech.

Me and Matt exchanged looks throughout. Most of this was complete rubbish.

Finally, the escort announced. "Let's start it up with the boys." He tried to speak with our District Ten accent, but on top of the Capitol one, it just sounded wrong. His burly hand had difficulty seizing only one paper, and he seemed to crumple the paper too.

"Drale Shetler."

First instinct; I wanted to freakin' cry. Matt clutched my shoulder reassuringly. Holding up my head, I walked forward. I had to stay strong. For Knix, for Arum, for Drew. They need to know that they had a brother who didn't let fear over take him.

And I want Father to be proud to have a strong son.

_**Tanya**_

The boy walked forward from the seventeen year old section. He looked self-assured, but not in the way that was "I totally can't wait, I'm so gonna win!" he seemed strong.

Megan grasped my hand, holding on tight. The escort shoved his hand into the girl bowl.

"Tanya Ride." My eyes widened. Megan dropped my hand. I twisted to her. She was already taking in a breath.

Swiftly, I kicked her in the shin. "Don't you dare!" I hissed. The girl fell to her knees, either from the pain of the kick or my words.

Breathing one last calming breath, I marched to the stage.

_**Drale**_

The slim built fourteen year old kept her eyes closed as the escort read the final few speeches. We were instructed to shake hands, and I reached down to take her hand. A lock of her spunky black hair fell in her eyes, but she tucked it…behind…her…ear.

My thoughts began to whir. Her eyes… they were purple. Her ears were pointed. I examined her whole face. She looked very much like a pixy. With purple eyes. Very deep, purple.

"Good luck," she whispered. It kind of nerved me when I saw that her canines pointed sharply. You had to be close to notice.

I had a feeling I'd get to know this name, Tanya Ride.

-0-

Mother and Father sat next to me awkwardly. Instantly, Mother had both arms around me, and I felt my sleeve begin to soak with her tears.

"We love you, Drale," she whispered. I swallowed.

"Do you?" I asked. Mother sat back, her brown eyes staring at me.

"What?"

I didn't skip a beat. "Do you really love me?" To make my point clearer, I turned my head to Father. His eyes narrowed on me.

"Why would you say I don't love you?" he said incredibly. His chin was stubbly and in the light, his face looked gaunt.

My fists tightened. "You don't tend to show it." I said. "Or tell me. Or even show you like having me around. Why do you think I'm working all the time? To prove that I'm not a bum to you. You never even _smile_ at me. What kind of Father-"

Before I could finish, Father threw his arms around me, so tight, I almost couldn't breathe.

"I'm terrified right now." His voice quaked, and his eyes glistened sadly. "I may possibly lose my oldest and only son. I may not show it, but I love you, Drale. I really do. I may not always be there for you, but I care."

"Times up," the Peacekeeper suddenly said. All of us jerked back in surprise. I hugged Father one last time.

"I love you, too."

_**Ah, sorry if I got a little fluffy there. And don't think Tanya was just born like that; she has a story that still hasn't been told. Without looking at her submission description, what do you think her story is?**_


	12. D11 Reaping: If I Die Young

**Second to last reaping chapter; hells to the yeah.**

**And I've realized, with the deleting of chapters one through five, that reviewing is quite screwy. Sorry 'bout that. **

_**Jayden Crush, District 11**_

A mockingjay landed on a branch by the apple I was about to pick, whistling out the song to go home. It was an early day, on account of the reaping. Sliding down the tree, I finally made it to the ground, carrying the basket full of freshly picked apples. They could do with another month but we had a deadline to meet.

Jalin and Brice walked up to me, holding their load. "Ready for today?" I asked, staring hungrily at the fruit. We weren't allowed to touch a thing though.

Jalin, the master of carrying a basket on her head, gave a slight bob of her head. Brice just shrugged. He was only fourteen, yet, he looked like he was just about six feet tall. Of course, I couldn't get any genetics like that. I chuckled at that thought, but I had to admit it was half-hearted.

We walked on, only giving minor chitchat. I felt a tug on my sleeve.

"Good luck today, Jay," May said, her hazel eyes glittering sadly. "You, too," she said to my friends.

We made our way to the town section of the district. Walking out, I felt a bit less at home. The fields are where I feel most safe. Story goes that I was actually born there (Yeah, the Peacekeepers made my Mom work while she was pregnant).

We dropped our baskets by the gates of the working area and continued on to our shabby houses. I waved goodbye to friends, walking into the last house at the corner.

May skipped ahead, opening the door. The rickety wooden door creaked as it opened. The fresh scent of our home reached my nose. Mom and Dad had laid out breakfast, some grey looking cereal and banana slices. We had milk today, which was a treat.

May and I ate in silence. Mom strolled in, her brown hair tied back. She sat on a stool by the breakfast nook. Her hand stroked my hair and back.

"Are you alright?" she asked, smiling miserably at me. Here in District Eleven, we had a lot of people. The strange part was everyone seemed to know each other, wherever you go. In addition, we also have a lot of pressure to meet our quota. So, when it comes to the reaping, we have a before hand drawing of about half the kids in the district, and they receive a letter that makes them aware that they will be eligible for reaping. I've gotten the letter for the reaping for the past three years. I've never had a moment of relief.

Dad came in then. His hair was graying and he was tall, about six feet tall. He was well muscled, and usually one of the people to harvest crops from the denser areas.

I realized I hadn't answered Mom's question.

"As best as I could be," I answered honestly. Even though it was in milk, I didn't feel too hungry. I pushed the bowl away.

Dad urged me to change and I did so, into a black t-shirt and jeans. May walked out of her room the same time I did. Her dress blended together with different wall colors, and if she were to hide in a pile of flaky, fresh off the tree autumn leaves, I'd probably lose sight of her.

"Is this really going to happen to me one day?" she asked quietly. Her hair was held back by a hair band made of dried leaves. So innocent, in such a horrible world.

"Yeah," I said earnestly. She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around my waist.

"I don't ever want to grow up."

I didn't want to either little sister. Didn't want to at all.

_**Robyn Achene**_

"Robyn!" Mother screeched. "You should know better, shoes off! Leave them by the door." Without saying anything back, I slipped off the durable leather shoes and placed them neatly by the door. Several other pairs were already neatly lined up. I'm slightly surprised they aren't in size order. But Mother isn't that OCD isn't she?

Dad sat at the table, sipping some cider Mother had made. The woman was busy placing things here and there, laying down my breakfast on the table. I pulled the chair out and sat quietly folding my hands as I took in the scent of it.

Mother was probably the best cook in all of District Eleven, and if not, all on Panem. I quickly tucked in to it, chewing it quickly. Glancing up, I found Mother scowling at me.

"Oh," I mumbled, swallowing. "Sorry. The oxygen just couldn't reach my brain, it's so good." I sat up straighter, eating my breakfast slower. Dad smiled, not glancing up from the book he was reading. The house has become a lot quieter over the past few years. Both my older sisters have gotten married and Macintosh now has a little girl, Rose.

I stared down at my plate for a moment. I'm seventeen, and have never fallen in love. It seems like everyone else has. When I point this out to my friend Leah, she reminds me I'm only seventeen, and all her friends are years older than her. I seem to forget that I'm young.

"Oh, Robyn," Mother said after instructing me to clean the dishes and reminding me to place everything in the specific cabinets (wow, after seventeen years, she still doesn't think I know where everything in this house goes, including sarcastic comments). "You put your dirty clothes in the wrong hamper again."

"Sorry," I said, wiping the dish clean with a ratty towel. I folded it neatly, placing it on the windowsill. At that moment, the clatter of voices started up at the door. Without knocking, Mac opened the door, walking in. On her right hip she carried Rose, and held Danny's hand with her free hand.

"Hi, Mom!" she cried, running in and hugging the smaller woman. The two embraced, chattering and talking about whatever women talk about.

Macintosh turned to face me. Oh goody, this was going to be fun.

Placing Rose down, she hugged me. "Oh, Robby!" she said. Ooh, call me by the name I hate, that's a good one. "Still haven't managed to grow out of that acne stage, have you?" I smiled at my sister, my eyes narrowing.

"No, not quite. I see you still got that zit off your neck."

"What!" Mac screeched, her hand covering her neck self-consciously.

I smirked. "Yeah the one right-" I flicked her forehead. "-there."

My sister glared at me, and she wasn't the only one. "Robyn, be polite," Mother hissed. I crossed my arms but didn't say any more.

A hesitant little knock came from the door. With everyone being so hectic, I walked over to answer it.

I smiled at my sister. "Good to see you," Azalea said quietly, holding hands with Wright. She let go and gave me a hug. Azalea was my second sister and takes more after Dad, being quiet and more soft-spoken. She was a bit of a nerd in school and I knocked a few heads around, even though I'm four years younger than her.

Wright came in with one of his bone crushing bear hugs. He looked more like your typical District Eleven dweller, tall and muscular, with dark brown skin. His eyes were a golden color, and quite mesmerizing.

He walked on ahead, a certain spring in his step. Azalea pulled me outside. "I have some news," she said. Her blue eyes lit up and a smile split across her face.

"What?" I asked impatiently. Azalea stroked her stomach.

"Holy crap, you're pregnant!" I yelled. My sister pressed a finger to her lips, which smiled behind them. Slowly, she nodded.

"Congratulations!" I said in a lower voice, placing a gentle hand on her stomach. "Name it after me!" I added with a crooked grin.

Azalea grinned. "I'm planning to tell everyone after the reaping. When they aren't so tense." Her voice dropped a little at reaping.

"Who have you told?" I asked, a little curious.

"Wright, of course, and you." My heart felt warm and touched. She didn't tell Mother or Mac, or any of her other friends. She told me.

At that moment, Leah and Lilac, who was holding some dude's hand, turned the corner and waved to me. I looked at Azalea.

She waved me on.

"Are you sure?" I asked. The small woman (that sounded weird to call my sister who I've defended for years) nodded.

"I'll cover." Hugging my sister one last time, I ran on ahead.

Lilac smiled at me, her voice airy. "Robyn, this is Braden." I gave a closed grin. He waved back.

As we started off, I took a step back to stand next to Leah. "Is he 'the one'?"

Leah shook her head sadly. "All of them are 'the one.'"

For such a smart girl, Lilac was pretty stupid. But with a topic like dating, I should be the one talking.

_**Jayden**_

There was a subtle hush or the crowd the escort twirled her hand around the bowl, finally picking out a name. Boys first, which was odd. For all I know, one of my friends could be called, and brought to their awaiting demise.

The escort gave a curt, squeaky, clearing of her throat. "Jayden Crush."

The warmth drained from my body. This wasn't possible. Silently I stepped forward. No way, this couldn't happen. I heard the far off sobbing of May.

Never grow up May. I don't want to regret never being able to see you grow older.

_**Robyn**_

Poor kid. Hope he doesn't die too painfully. I wonder how his family is feeling. I could here the crying of a young girl somewhere. I've never known what it's like to lose someone. Mother is even strict with me watching the Games, so I don't really see much of it. The world as a whole.

The escort plucked another name from the other bowl.

"Robyn Achene." Well, I had a nice life.

_**Jayden**_

A seventeen year old walked up to the stage. Yet another person who is taller than me. She was really tall, really skinny, with dark blonde hair floating down her back.

After one last speech, we shook hands. Robyn looked as shocked as I was.

We were then whisked off for final goodbyes. Plenty of friends came, some in near tears. Mom and Dad just sat there hugging me. May came in by herself.

"Jayden," she said, holding on tight to me. I hugged her back. She was my only sister, only sibling.

"Please don't die," she said, her voice breaking. I smoothed down her brown hair, which mussed up after she dug her head under my arm.

"I won't," I said.

"Promise me you'll try." I couldn't answer. "Promise!"

My little sister, so tiny, so innocent, stared at me hard, he eyes glistening. Her whole being was pleading with me, to try.

"I promise I will do whatever I can to survive." I didn't care about winning. All I wanted to do is survive.


	13. D12 Reaping: The Family Name

**Aw snap, aw snap, come to our macaroni party and we'll take a nap. Sorry, random mood. So here we are, last Reaping. (Cracks knuckles) Alright, let's do this.**

***Possible Spoilers ahead for Mockingjay, somewhere in my edited bit of it***

_**Teagan Aniston, District 12**_

"That cloud looks like a tree," I said, pointing it out. Finnegan stared over at it.

"Looks more like cotton candy to me," He said, sitting up. "Or a mushroom cloud." I frowned at that comment.

"Sorry, not the right time to mention that?" I love my friend but he can be…for a lack of better words, an insensitive, typical, boy. I scruffed up his shaggy blonde mop of a head. He's still my best friend though. Kind of balances me out.

We had dressed in our reaping outfits earlier and decided to spend the morning together. Most of it had involved staring at the clouds and listening to the mockingjays sing. Finn now stood up, wiping the grass off his dress pants.

"I have a few extra dollars, do you want to get a snack from one of the shops real quickly?" he asked. Standing up next to him, I answered with a soft "sure."

The little town center seemed sad. Several of the shops were closed on the account of the reaping. Finn and I instantly pressed our faces against the window of my favorite one.

The cakes were frosted so beautifully. I just wanted to reach my hand through the window and take one. But, of course, I couldn't.

"Too bad they're closed," Finn said. I stared at the cakes and other pastries longingly. When the district had been bombed out, everything had been cleared away. After the second rebellion failed, they forced all of District 13 to come here, be shed into the light. My parents had only been thirteen and fifteen. District 13 also had never seen the Hunger Games, one my aunt entered. I never had the chance to meet her.

The little bakery, even though the old one had been bombed, still was a family owned business.

"We're closed," a voice said from behind me. Turning, I felt my stomach twist. Everything about him just made you admire the boy, all the way down his name.

"We know," Finn said, leaning back on the glass. "Just admiring the cakes. You make them?" I probably would have asked all these questions, but my voice clenched and I couldn't speak. I'm usually a people person, but boys just get me all tongue-tied, especially him.

"No, not my area of expertise. Mainly my brother, and sister when she's here." The boy threw his bag over his shoulder. The sunlight glistened off his hair and in his eyes, which were a grey color, with little speckles of blue. His eyes, not his hair.

"I need to change, see you guys around," he said. Under his breath, I swear I heard something like, "I hope." That's odd.

The door of the bakery clattered close. After a few moments, it opened again, a small boy stepping out. I believe he was about 8 or 9, but I wasn't positive.

"My brother said to give these to you," he said, handing me a beautifully frosted cupcake, as well as to Finn. My friend made a gesture to pull out his money, but the smaller boy shook his head.

"Kellen says they're on the house," Finn –well the little boy, his name was Finn too- said. Only his Finn was short for Finnick.

We said our thank you's and found an empty bench to sit on. "I almost don't want to eat it," I murmured. Finnegan was smiling at his cupcake too and gently unpeeled the paper.

"I know what you mean," he said. "But wouldn't it be more insulting if we didn't eat it?" With that in mind, I followed suit of Finn, and bit happily into it.

The sweet flavor danced on my tongue. I found myself taking another bite and another bite, until all I had left were my frosting covered fingers. Sadly, I licked them.

Finn smirked at me. "And the cupcake magically disappears," he said, spreading his hands in a magician's gesture. I laughed.

My eyes drifted back to the bakery. In big neat lettering over it read, _Mockingjay Bakery. _There wasn't any cheesy motto or anything like that. The Mellark's don't roll like that.

I thought once more about Kellen. He one of those people that can't help but get attention. Every girl in the grade and those surrounding it had a crush on him. And I think that may include me.

But he was Kellen _Mellark_ of all people. How can you not?

_**Kellen Mellark**_

Finnick (Finn for short) came back in with the silver plate. "They say thank you." Peering out the window, I watched the two walking together. The district appeared dull today. Home was pretty dull too. Mom and Dad are rarely here, but Rose wasn't here either. I don't even know where, she just said it was certain business to be done for the parentals.

That only meant trouble.

I told her exactly how I felt.

"Why can't I go?" I demanded stubbornly. Rose smiled, braiding her hair up in the mirror I stared at now from across the room.

"You still have to stay for the reaping," she said, tossing her hair behind her back. She looked a lot like Mom. But with Dad's eyes, of course.

Preferably, I would have liked to live in the old house Mom grew up in. It just felt homier to me.

I had met up with Cleo there this morning.

"Happy reaping day!" she greeted, swinging her game bag back and forth. I grinned. Even on a day like this, the Hawthorne could always manage to put a smile on my face. Walking into the house, she yanked back the green tarp we had placed over the hole to the forest. After the second rebellion, they've made a tighter ship around here, or so I've been told. That meant the electric fence surrounding it was on, twenty-four/seven. But this is District 12; we know how to dig a hole.

I hopped down, and without the need of a light, walked on ahead. I've done this so many times, it's not even funny. Climbing out, the instant feeling of sunlight and fresh air on the other side invigorated me.

It was a decent morning. Cleo and I both shot a squirrel a piece, along with a rabbit. Cleo handed me her killings, along with her weapons. She, unlike me, didn't technically exist. Her parents kept her secret, while Mom and Dad kept me, along with Finnick and Rose, in the district, under the watchful eyes of the Capitol. I'm still not filled on the full story of that, but Rose says that our parents argued tooth and nail about it with some important rebel people. Which side they were going for, I don't know.

"Good luck today," she said as we sat and snacked on some of the berries she had scavenged. Cleo's a good hunter, don't get me wrong, but she didn't have the same knack for it as her father. I shot most of the game, and with a cleaner shot.

I nodded towards my friend. "You're lucky. Gale lets you do all this cool stuff for the rebels. I'm just stuck in District Twelve." My dark haired friend smiled.

"Everyone has a role to play. Yours is here," she gestured in the direction of the district. We were close. Not in a romantic way, but as close friends. I honestly thought of her as a cousin.

"This isn't fair," I said. "I'm pent up in this stupid place while you get to fight, see all of Panem."

Cleo rolled her eyes. "Trust me, I don't do much fighting. Most of the time, I'm in a headquarters somewhere, keeping track of messages. That, or hunting and keep a close eye on my bonehead friend." Her chapped lips split into a smirk.

"Fine, you're right," I murmured. But she wasn't. What purpose do I have doing nothing in a district? I want to be out there. Spying on Capitol officials, intercepting messages, making my own name for myself. Not hunting and baking.

Cleo walked me back to the house. We waved goodbye.

I noticed something as I started to walk away from the house. Something out of place. Moving back a few paces, I placed the slight difference to the atmosphere; the fence was off.

As I examined it, pacing back and forth, I realized it was only in one section of the metal netting. Enough, that if someone wanted to climb it, getting around the barbed wire at the top, but not causing much suspicion. Instinct kicked in, and I swore, I felt a pair of eyes on me. Swinging around, I saw no one behind me.

The sound of my watch brought me back to the present. Finn, I guess out of habit, started singing along to the familiar tune, the notes melodic and comfy.

"_Deep in the meadow, under the willow. A bed of grass, a soft green pillow. Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes. And when again they open the sun will rise. Here it's safe, here it's warm. Here the daisies guard you from every harm. Here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true. Here's the place where I love you..."_

It had been a silent agreement between me and Rose; Finn had inherited most of Mom's singing ability. I used to never believe the district myth of Mom making the bird's stop singing. But then Finn was born, and the first time I heard him sing, I held my head in shame.

I was the one named for my grandfather, but I knew Finn would turn out to be more like him.

_**Teagan**_

Effie Trinket died a few years ago. To just a natural death, or by the hand of the Capitol, we will never know. Reapings here haven't been the same since.

I fixed one of my bows in my light brown hair. It may seem silly for someone my age, but I always kept them tied in pigtails. Not the kind that sticks out of my head, more like tied just below my ear, everything pulled back from my face.

Nervously, I fiddled with the ribbon. The crowd only chattered a bit, the noise level low enough where the soft crying of a baby was apparent from one end to another in the square.

My hands were jittery. They went from fixing my hair, to smoothing to my dress, to picking off a piece of invisible lint. I tried to start a conversation with my friends in the section, but most (including me) remained closed mouth, only giving one, two word answers.

The mayor started up his welcome speech, then passing the microphone over to the escort. A male Effie Trinket look-alike went on about something that seemed unimportant. My attention soon took to the sky, literally. The clouds drifted by, twisting and floating into different shapes.

One, more at the edge of my vision, caught my attention.

It looked like a skull.

Suddenly, there was a quick intake of breath from certain girls in my vicinity. Blinking, I looked at the stage. I have to admit, I'm surprised…but not _that _surprised.

Holding his head solemnly on stage was who other then, Kellen Mellark.

_**Kellen**_

Am I surprised? No…well, maybe a little bit. I mean, there's so many rebels infiltrated in the Capitol, I thought…well I hoped my parents would have been able to rig the reaping bowl to have my name taken out. But who am I kidding; every slip of paper must have my name on it.

The Effo (as I preferred to call him) winked at me. "Well, looks like we have a legend on our hands." I'm no legend, I thought. My parents are.

Seemingly, he forgot to ask for volunteers.

"Onto the girls," he announced proudly, spiking his forest green hair up more.

Silently, I thanked whatever powerful force that makes this planet turn. If Rose had been a year younger, I know for a fact she would be standing on this stage next to me.

_**Teagan**_

The man grasped another slip of paper, this time from the girls' bowl.

"Teagan Aniston."

From my lips, a small _eep _escaped. Without much else of a choice, I skittered up to the stage.

_**Kellen**_

I questioned if the quiet girl can make it past the first day. I shook my head sadly. She was cute, her bloodline running from District 13. I could tell in her brown eyes and hair. She reminded me of a baby calf. But instead of a dumb, ignorant glimmer in them, there was a certain sweetness and brightness.

A wind picked up and I felt my hair drift with it. One of Teagan's pigtails flew into her face. The final Treaty of Treason was read, along with the Mockingjay's Surrender. I felt my fist tighten. The way the escort read it, it was like he was _mocking _me.

As instructed, we shook hands.

The girl shyly looked at me, a small, sad smile dancing across her mouth.

What happened next only occurred in the space of a few of my sped up heartbeats. I heard it; a soft _pluck_. The pluck of a bow. My eyes drifted up, and I caught sight of a black arrow whistling through the air. I had to admit, it was an amazing shot, but just as it was let go, a sudden whirl of wind blew in. And now it came straight as Teagan.

Only a few people saw it, a limited few.

Instinct and adrenaline coursed through my veins. Doing stuff without thinking about it is in my genes. As we dropped hands, I rocked back on my heels, and lurched forward. My hands took hold of Teagan's shoulders and we plummeted onto the floor of the stage.

The brunette squeaked a feeble, "Oomph," upon contact. Above me, the arrow had found a target in the large reaping bowl. It shattered apart, the little white papers fluttering through the air. I moved into a kneeling position beside Teagan.

Curiosity got to me. I plucked one of the names from where the fluttered and skittered about. My eyes widened. I grabbed another. And another. And another.

Whichever one I seized they all said the same thing; _Kellen Mellark._

Standing, I plunged a hand into the girl bowl. There was complete uproar, people yelling out in anger and confusion. Peacekeepers barked orders to no prevail.

"Hey," Effo shouted at me. "Get your dirty little rebel hands out of there." He took hold of the bowl and yanked it back. For a guy who looked pretty buff, he was quite the weakling. The muscles must have not even been real, just another result of a Capitol "beautification procedure." The bowl shattered to the ground to where Teagan still lay; now sitting up.

I don't even want to imagine what would have happened if she hadn't brought her arms up to protect her face. Because the moment the glass bowl broke, the little pieces spread everywhere. Crimson rivers streamed down her arms and legs. Some of the papers stuck to the girl, stained red now from her wounds.

Two hands clamped down on my shoulders, another two around my waist. A random Peacekeeper had Teagan in his arms, holding her lightly. He carried her gently, but I knew it was just because he didn't want any blood on his uniform. I was shoved onto the train without my goodbyes, Teagan brought to the infirmary.

The train jerked forward, and soon I felt myself being tugged away from District Twelve, the only home I've ever known.

_**Teagan**_

I probably sat there for two hours having glass plucked roughly from my skin. The nurse knew he had missed one every time he tried to wrap me up, and I flinched back in pain as a shard cut its way deeper into me.

The moment had been a blur of chaos. But one thing I was certain. I could still feel the heat in my face from it.

From Kellen's point of view, he had probably just been working off of instinct. Me, on the other hand…well, all I was thinking about was that the cute Kellen Mellark had grabbed my shoulders, his face a mere half an inch away from mine.

Gosh, I'm so stupid! In such a crazed moment, all I could think about was a boy. Kellen Mellark, mind you, but…just forget him. You need to focus on getting out of here. You're in the Hunger Games, Teagan. You don't even have to worry about him; he's the son of Katniss Everdeen. He can take care of himself.

**Ah! Reapings, officially finished. Various fun facts; when I wrote Katniss, it came up as a typo, and when I clicked to ignore it, one of the corrections that came up was Catnips. I thought it was funny. Also, I was able to remember all of the meadow song without looking back at the book. So, uh, yay.**

**I know, this chapter came out long. And next chapter, I expect to be longer. It's a "look back home" sort of chapter. I hope you'll enjoy it.**

**May the odds be ever in your favor.**


	14. Just Start the Games Already! And Quiz

***Beware. Especially long chapter!* This chapter actually had all the tributes look back homes, but it was so time consuming and long, I cut back on a few. Sorry to those tribute creators. If you want, you can just skip down to the bottom, this chapter is just kind of filler (and not the one from District 4).**

_**District 1**_

"Are you alright?" Her mother asked, as she finished upchucking her lunch.

After a final little _bleh,_ Chastity turned to face the older woman, her cheek pressed against the cool toilet seat. "I'm okay. I just hope Carson's not walking into that arena with some strain of my stomach flu."

The mother looked at her daughter curiously. "How long have you been sick?"

Chastity shrugged. "It's been coming and going for about the past week." After a moment of watching her mother's uneasy expression, she asked, "Why?"

"I don't think this is the stomach flu…."

"Then what?"

The woman bit her lip awkwardly. Suddenly, Chastity realized what her mom was suggesting. She did the math quickly in her head and choked back strangled tears.

Julian cautiously peeped his head around the door. Chastity had promised her boyfriend she watch the triplets during the day. "You alright?"

No, Julian, Chastity thought. I'm not alright.

-0-

Walking down the road that evening, or even across the district, you could hear the music. Several Peacekeepers had already been sent to the house after reports of public disturbance, but there were so many teens, they couldn't control them. Some of the officials even joined in on the drinking and dancing.

Trey Madders watched them from a set of cliffs that jutted abruptly from the ground, off in the distance, on the other side of the fence. From where he stood, the people were small and they just appeared to be a moving mass, all connected. The party was thrown by Reanne, in honor of Westria. He shook his head. So ignorant, all of them.

He was done acting like the good guy. Trey had played good guy all his life. And where was he now? Alone, and with a broken heart.

People in his place would probably just shrug off Westria. "She volunteered, she deserves to die." But in his heart, he knew that it wasn't fully her fault. It's just been the way she was raised.

He wonders…what if he had showed her the love she never got….

"Madders, come in, Madders," a voice buzzed from the earpiece in Trey's ear. He shrugged the thought off. Whatever. Trey had better things to do.

"Yeah, I'm here. What you got for me?"

_**District 2**_

Jade fiddled with the last few wires, checking, and double checking that they were in place. She wasn't exactly sure; she's not from Three or anything like that. Nevertheless, she had the most experience with the technical stuff. Poppy stood, peering around the corner down the stone halls of the basement. Sandro was still keeping the Peacekeepers busy. And even if they realize his true intentions, those metal poles on his arms really did come in handy.

The fact that her name had been called really shook Jade up. Right now, she could be on a train chugging on towards the Capitol. Cadette may be one to drop on any chance to enter the Hunger Games, but Jade honestly detested the thought of it. That's why she was there now.

"Okay, we're good to go," she said, wiping the sweat forming on her forehead. Poppy nodded, checking if the coast was clear. They only had three and a half minutes to get out. Jade anxiously dried her moist palms on her shirt.

The sprinted down the hall, up the steps to the main floor. Every sound (the rumbling of the elevator moving, the muffled voices of people, the heater burning coal) set the young girl's teeth on edge.

The two girls made there way up the steps. It took Poppy a few seconds to jiggle her pocket knife in the key slot.

Suddenly, a smelled something. Not like coal, but more like…acid. Uh oh.

"Pop, we need to go, now!" Jade said tersely. She glanced nervously over her shoulder, as if the Peacekeepers will barge from the opposing door, large dogs ferociously snapping at the air, only focusing on the source of the out of place smells of acid and girls.

Finally, she heard a click. "Got it." Poppy opened it, cautiously peeking around. They stepped out gingerly, the fancy red carpet greeting their feet.

"Hey!" a gruff man yelled. "What are you doing in here?" Instantly, Poppy and I shot off down the hall. The older girl darted around the man easily. Jade wasn't so slick, but slip underneath his staggered feet. Standing, she winced, the rug burn stinging her knees.

Sandro stood talking to several of the officers. The Peacekeepers, upon hearing their comrade call out turned. One fell to the ground as two metal poles clocked is head. The group was momentarily confused. How could a kid who couldn't string two words together knock out an officer of such high standard? This moment allowed the girls to exit the Justice Building, Sandro hobbling on from behind.

Just as he reached the last step, the scent reached his nose. His eyes began tearing, and before he could take another step, all his thoughts were cut off. A loud _boom _rattled his thoughts and he watched as the world faded black before him.

_**District 3**_

Claudia was all alone. She couldn't explain to any one who asked where she was going. She literally couldn't. The Capitol, those bad people who seem to be all the evil in her world, took away her siblings. For the past few hours, she had just wandered. Only so few took notice of her, and most didn't care where she was going, or who she was.

Claudia found herself standing in front of the place she had called home for the past few months. Well, the building part. She lived in the cellar.

As she stepped around to find the window she used to climb in, two hands darted from the darkness. One clamped firmly on her arm, the other over her mouth (Claudia thought that was offly silly).

She whimpered silently, tugging her arm hard.

"Shhhh," a soft voice said. Claudia examined the person who grabbed her with wide eyes. She knows this girl. She had been in that building when Klaus and Violet had been saying goodbye. Same long black hair and velvet coat. The girl had only gone to talk to Klaus.

"You're okay," she whispered. "I'm a good person."

_**District 4**_

It still felt weird to know that she was gone. Brooke, who had been the person to cause the woman all her problems, was gone. Was it a good thing? Was it a bad thing? She thought about her daughter, now going to fight to the death, in the Hunger Games.

The woman guessed she loved the girl. If she really had hated her, she probably wouldn't have kept her. It would have been so easy to drop Brooke off in some random orphanage, or even a neighbor's doorstep.

Brooke had caused her so much trouble. The young woman thought back to the past, which had been a forbidden topic in the house.

Even though I loved her, she thought, its still better that she's gone.

Then what was that knot in her stomach there for?

_**District 5**_

Preston laughed that evening as he watched the recaps of the reaping. The Peacekeeper laid back in his leather chair (fresh from District Ten), arms crossed over his chest. As the ending of the anthem played, he stood, pulling on his uniform jacket. He began his rounds of the district. The roads were a slick black color and the street lights glistened lamely off it.

As he rounded yet another corner, Preston's eyes narrowed on a young girl shivering in front of the house. It was an especially windy evening, and the girl wore a ratty t-shirt and thin shorts.

"Why you out so late?" Preston asked gruffly. As the girl looked up, he recognized her as Maggie, the one whose sister was reaped. _Good riddance, _he thought.

Maggie looked up at him, her thin arms crossed over her to retain whatever form of heat she can produce. "My Mom won't let me in the house."

He crossed his arms, and then jerked the girl upward to her feet by grabbing her arm. Maggie couldn't meet his gaze.

"And why is that?"

The girl glanced up momentarily, then back down at the ground. "She's in one of her moods again." Preston rolled his eyes. It was a known fact that the Lockhart woman had an issue with drugs. Started up after her other daughter entered the Hunger Games. She had been a bloodbath, and a delightful one to watch at that.

Preston tugged her up. "Well we should just bring you to the orphanage then." The girl finally met his gaze, startled.

"What? I mean, I'm not an orphan, I still have my Mom." With a leering smile, Preston yanked Maggie, so hard he almost ripped the limb from its socket. As they stepped into the orange glow of the street light, he got a better look at her face.

What he thought had been shadows were really bruises, some yellowing from age, others in the midst of forming. And as he saw the fearful and lost –of so lost- expression on Maggie's face, he felt a twinge of sympathy. This girl had already lost one sister, and possibly a second, as well as a mother, in a way.

No, you can't be sympathetic. Pathetic was in the word. Preston scowled at the girl. "Get back in that house. I don't care how, just get in, or I'll haul your ass to the nearest center." With that, the Peacekeeper turned on his heel. That'll show them who has the power here.

-0-

Milo has never seen his sister like this. Usually, she's talking his ear off, everybody's ear off, telling stories of the most unimportant things. Really, the stories hadn't bothered him. He enjoyed her chatter, and it was endearing in its own way.

But now she wouldn't even come out of her room. Maybe even couldn't come out.

The fourteen year old, having failed the first dozen times of getting Neda to open the door, turned the knob and walked in unannounced. As his eyes swept the room and laid on her, Milo questioned if he should have barged in. His sister lay in a ball on the floor at the foot of her bed. Her eyes were bloodshot and blurred, seeming to stare at nothing.

Milo sat on the floor next to her, wrapping his arms around his sister. "I'm so sorry, Neda." Instantly, a new round of rattling sobs uttered out of the girl. She just let them stream down her face, keeping her hands propped up on her knees.

Yet another wave of guilt washed over Milo. This was his entire fault. If he hadn't been reaped, Kaeden wouldn't have volunteered. He should have stopped the older boy, told him to turn away.

But here Milo was, while Kaeden rode the train into the Capitol.

_**District 6**_

"But we had an agreement!" The man slammed his fist onto the table. 'I'll continue making you these damn weapons as long as my son is not entered into the reaping." The man, an assistant to President Frost, shrugged.

"There are certain workings to this year's Hunger Games," said the official. "If you noticed, we have some hardcore rebels' kids in there. Including the Mellark kid."

The man widened his eyes in disbelief. "Are you suggesting I'm a rebel? I'm making your bloody mutts! I had to work especially hard for this year. And you repay me by reaping my son?"

The official shook his head. "Stop acting stupid, Vikus. We know you have been leaking information and selling weapons to the rebels." This really got the man's attention.

He rocketed up from his seat, leaning across the table. "Do you think I'd do something that stupid? I don't give a damn about some rebellion or overthrow of power. At the end of the day, it's all the same; all I want is to be able to put an arm around my son."

The official _tisked_ the man. Before Vikus could reach out and strangle him, a group of high up Peacekeepers thundered in, yanking the man out.

"You'll regret this!" he yelled, his throat going raw. "If Dorian dies, I swear I will turn to the rebels." President Snow's assistant yawned, obviously bored.

_**District 7**_

Wendy and Sandy walked along quietly. It just wasn't the same without Ree. So, in honor of their friend, they wandered the woods in silence, listening to animals call and the trees sway. Wendy stepped easily along, Sandy having to duck under branches often. Suddenly, the taller tripped over a branch, stumbling. She caught herself on a nearby tree. But something seemed off.

Wendy, her face perplexed, walked over to the tree. It looked like any other one. She rapped her knuckles on, giving it a hard knock. Both girls' eyes widened

"It's hollow," Sandy stated. Wendy ran her hands over the bark. With a slight gasp, she felt a gap running down it. She pointed it out to her friend.

Sandy examined the tree closely. Her hand went to a certain little piece of bark. Giving it a tug, something _clicked_ and a hidden door swung open.

They peered in amazement. Little did they know this was the very reason their friend now rode in to her possibly awaited death.

_**District 8**_

Scarlett and her father sat together watching the recaps. The anthem played but they left it on, sitting there in silence. Scarlett thought back to the pretty person in Allie's locket. Why did Allie get to meet their Mommy and not her? It didn't seem fair.

She looked up at her father. He was a kind man, and had a laugh that seemed to rumble his belly. His expression seemed pained.

"Why do the mean people do this?"

The man shook his head, as if coming out of a daze. "What?"

"The people who took Allie. She told me they took her to this place and they don't want to give her back."

Mr. Manson paused, reflecting on what to say. "They do it to show they're the bigger person. To make other people seem smaller."

Scarlett frowned. "They sound like big bullies." Her father bit his lip uncertainly.

"More than you think."

-0-

Keep your head up. Keep your head up. Drew repeated this in his head, over and over again. This is what Rocker would have wanted. Stay strong in the eyes of the Capitol. He walked home like that after saying goodbye, possibly forever.

Kids and adults alike stared at Drew. His breathing remained steady, his stride strong. He didn't speak to any one. His parents lead the way, grief evident in their eyes.

Soon they made it home, and Drew allowed himself a look back out at the world. He made his way to his room and shut the door. Tears stung his eyes and he let all the pain and sorrow inside him release.

_**District 9**_

A loud crash woke him. It scared Bentley, and he instantly felt tears well up in his eyes. He wanted Kyla to hold him, but she seemed to never come. She always came though.

A loud shout of, "SHUT UP!" only frightened the baby even more. He didn't like it here. The angry man always shouted and he never held Bentley. His cries blared with screams. The angry man thundered in.

"I said shut up!" he bellowed. Bentley sobbed all the same. Suddenly, the baby heard another crash. A swarm of big muscled men came in pulling the man away. All he wanted was to go away, Bentley, and for Kyla to hold him. One of the muscled men picked him up.

A gentle voice spoke to him, murmuring incoherent words that just calmed Bentley. "You're alright." He whispered.

Another man, with grey strands in his beard, scowled at the man. "Stop playing mommy. Get the baby to the Justice Building." The bearded man smiled. "I see him making a fine Avox in the future."

_**District 10**_

Megan always had a quirky taste in friends. None of them could be categorized as "normal." The strangest of them had to be Tanya Ride.

Tanya, Megan's best friend, never struck Megan as a freak. She was just different. Distant memories of passing Tanya in the hallway at school had revealed that she had once looked "normal." Large brown eyes and an endearing smile. But somehow, these characteristics altered, and almost all of District 10 shunned her.

And now, Megan, watching the recaps, knew that Tanya had something in her. Something the Capitol didn't like. See, her strange nature ran deeper than just her looks. She seemed to do stuff and sense things that appeared nearly impossible. This was the girl who could fall off the tallest horse in the district and just get back up and try again.

Megan knew her friend wouldn't die. She just knew it.

_**District 11**_

May sat on the tallest tree on the highest branch. She clung on, swaying with the twig size branch with ease. Whenever she needed a place to think, she came here. Mockingjays fluttered and called to each other, carrying on the call of another.

Sighing, she whistled out a tune. A mockingjay flittered down on a nearby branch, matching the melody. May sang this time, her voice a little hoarse, and the mockingjay flitted closer, replicating her tune. She did this several times with the small bird. It made its way onto her finger, a few inches from her face. A flock suddenly made its way to the sky. The bird seemed to look reluctantly at her.

"Go on," she said softly. Bringing her finger down, the creature eventually spread its wings, taking to the sky.

"If only I could be so free…."

_**District 12**_

Noah, he didn't have any emotional story or breakthrough to share. It was simple. His sister had been reaped, and may die in the Hunger Games. He looked back at memories. Every moment that seemed small to Noah, he didn't regret wasting his time. Sorrow washed through him, grief apparent in his eyes. Nothing that seemed odd.

Dad isolated himself from the family, now losing a second person to the Games. Mom wept in the bathroom, the tile echoing her sobs.

Most attention would be drawn away from her in the Games. The obvious star had been Kellen. In a way, Noah felt bad for the kid. He is going to be an instant target, and might as well sign off on his death certificate.

-0-

"Where are we going?" Finn asked. For one so young, he still understood the need to keep his voice low.

"Away. Away from the district," the boy's mother spoke softly, but urgently. She had never been known to be gentle and the tense situation only made her more on her guard. Glancing around, she held Finn close, tugging him along towards the fence.

She knew they wanted him dead. But she also knew Kellen was going to win. No matter what, the boy will come out victorious.

There was that fine line of a martyrdom the Capitol had to watch. And if he was dead, there was no stopping the mayhem that would unfold.

It had possibly already started, when she fired that arrow. Or maybe even earlier, when she pulled out those berries.

**Ah, so here we are. And, to keep you busy, here's a little quiz you can do to give me the general idea of your thoughts. Please give one boy and one girl for each one, and also a "Why?" statement on why you chose them for that category, if you have the time.**

_**Favorite Tribute**_

_**Least Favorite Tribute**_

_**Most Likely Bloodbath**_

_**Most Deadly**_

_**Possible Romance**_

_**Possible Alliance, other than Career Pack**_

_**Tribute you want to know more about**_


	15. What Did I Get Myself Into?

**Ah, so I've been getting mixed reviews with the listing, but certain characters seem to be chosen often for certain categories. Really, it won't affect the outcome, I'm just curious to know what you think. And the questions brought up were really good, some I didn't even think about. Read it over, there may be some subtle hints there for you to find. Or not. You'll just have to keep your eyes open and what is it? Ah, yes, think twice.**

**While writing this, I have My Chemical Romance playing in the background. And the good kind of MCR.**

_**Dorian Happens, District 6 Tribute **_

Arianne grasped my hand as we stepped out of the chariot. Not in a thought of rebellion or passion, just, if she didn't she's probably faceplant the ground.

And as we were paraded ahead, I couldn't blame her. I had the urge to crawl into a ball and tell everyone to go away. Well, all I wanted to do was be in the lab with Unse or just with my dad, talking about life.

I haven't had the nerve to tell Arianne anything about the arena. My memory is pretty good, and I know at least several of the mutations that are going to come in. And some of them run deeper than hurting you physically.

We marched to the rest of the awaiting tributes. One and Two seemed kind of deadly. The District Two girl looked ready to kill someone, and she eyed her district partner's throat thirst fully. Mental note: stay away from her.

District Seven boy looked pretty Career; confident, good-looking, and a complete jerk off. His partner appeared tiny compared to him, but also looked bored.

I felt bad for the two Nines. They had to be the only 12 year olds.

In my hand, I felt Arianne's grip begin to waver. From one of the pockets of our chariot costumes (which consisted of a white lab coat and test tubes in our pockets the emitted fog), I pulled a pad of paper and a pencil. Arianne, upon placing her eyes on it, snatched the paper eagerly. _Thank you, _she mouthed.

So here I was, with the girl who, I believe, has agoraphobia. I still remember a few hours ago on the train.

Our mentor obviously was focusing on me. "Have a fair share of weapon and survival training. Do you know what you would want to show the Gamemakers?" I had no idea. Would rambling out the exact details of the mutts for this year get me a score?

"What about Arianne?" I asked. The girl turned her head towards us, as if she had forgotten we were there.

Jace, our mentor, shrugged. "We'll figure her out later." My eyes narrowed on the man. She didn't give the girl a fighting chance.

"What about allies?" I asked. Jace stroked the stubble on his chin thoughtfully.

"Well, we haven't really seen what they can do. The Mellark kid, I can tell, is like his mother. There's also the boy from Seven and the pair from Ten-"

"I want Arianne," I said firmly. Jace's eyes widened like I had just said I loved the Capitol. "She's a loyal person. Right?"

Arianne stared at me, still in a daze. "Uh, um…yes?" She said uncertainly.

And now here we were. Arianne's…issue…phobia, better word, wasn't that bad. She just doesn't do well under pressure. If I can get her mind to drift just a bit in the arena, and with the lack of people, she'll be fine. Just make her forget everyone is trying to kill her, as well as me. And not both of us can live.

What the hell did I get myself into?

_**Gamemaker Fulton, Capitol Resident**_

"Hello, tributes!" I greeted happily. "You're all looking fabulous." Wow, some of these kids were a wreck.

Unfurling the paper, I cleared my throat dramatically. Many looked at me with confusion. Of course, this isn't what usually happens, but hello 100th Hunger Games!

Wow, I am committing myself way too deep into this role.

Shaking this thought off, I peered down at the document. I really didn't need it but, you know, got to look professional. "A little reminder to all our tributes. This is our _Think Twice_ Quarter Quell. So, here's the start up of our ruling.

"The harvest is hidden beneath one of your best weapons. And if you reap it well, when you strike down your enemy, your enemy will rise again," I read, adding a little wink to the end. Before me are blank expressions. A little crack forms in my heart, but I kept the smile on my face. Don't break or they'll all die for sure.

_**Nicholas Calloway, District 3 Tribute**_

Instantly, the gears in my head began to turn. If you strike down your enemy, they'll rise again? Strange wording. Strike down, I know means kill. But to rise again? That sounds like this book I read once. The dead would come back in the form of their rotting corpse. They're called zombies.

As the opening ceremonies ended, we were ushered inside. Practically having the first group of tributes shoved on, I lost hold of Violet's hand. Instead, I found myself next to the tribute from District Twelve. Kellen Mellark.

It took me up to the District One floor to work up the nerve to speak. "K-Kellen, right?"

The boy turned his head. "Yeah." He spoke with a certain guard in his tone.

I paused. These elevators could be bugged, so I chose my words wisely. "You have a sister named Rose, right?" Kellen nodded, obviously a little disturbed. "She is very pretty. Has your dad's eyes."

Kellen nodded again, slower, turning his head forward. Strange, for the offspring of such legends, you'd picture someone who looked like… a legend, for lack of better words. He was I guess a decently handsome kid (I'm a boy, so I wouldn't fully know), lean, not all that muscular. Average height, close to the shorter side. I was actually taller than him. Basically like any other fourteen year old kid.

But he wasn't just any normal fourteen year old.

The elevator opened on the District Three floor. I chewed my lip, hoping Kellen would pick up on my hint.

The guy from Seven, who had that air of narcissism usually found on a Career, decided the moment would be great to trip a kid. I stumbled forward, hands splayed out to catch me. This was especially hard since my chariot costume consisted of a phone looking thing with light up buttons. My glasses skittered forward.

The Peacekeeper in the elevator just laughed. Kellen, disgusted by the scene, stepped through the small group and offered me a hand. I could barely make out his outline, blurred together with all the other tributes. As he hauled me up, I whispered hurriedly in his ear, "The reapings were fixed. Rose told me."

Roughly, the Peacekeeper tugged him back. But my message had reached Kellen because as the doors closed, I saw his eyes widen and head bob.

Violet handed me my glasses. "That guy is such a jerk," she said briskly. "But he looks dangerous."

Inside, I'm glad Rose hadn't told Violet. She hides secrets as well as I can prove I love the Capitol.

_**Tanya Ride, District 10 Tribute**_

Drale looked ready to murder someone, most specifically our stylists. When you dress two kids in cow suits (made of actual cows, by the way), they tend to not be very happy. Especially when the girl from Two walks by, flicks the cowbell around your neck, and laughs. Drale looked ready to strangle her on the spot.

The guy keeps to himself, which I respect. I guess we have that in common. We barely exchanged any words. I knew we both liked it that way.

The elevator opened on our floor. The last two kids on were the tributes from Eleven. The girl had a certain underlying grin to her that I liked, reminded me of Megan a bit. Very guarded, and also a tinge of sarcasm. The boy…well, he was just another boy in my eyes.

Our mentor was already inside, as well as our escort. My eyes scanned the area and I had to admit, it was impressive. Beautiful, and very Capitol. The elevator had been made of crystal! The light danced across the shards, rainbows cascading over us.

Suddenly, Drale yawned, making me jerk backwards. He smacked his lips, the corners of his mouth upturned. The older boy appeared to be like any District Ten resident. Shaggy brown hair that needed a desperate cut (from a weedwhacker), warm brown eyes, square jaw, and slight build, but still reasonably strong.

Something else too; a scar ran from the bridge of his nose over and down his left cheek. My curiosity sat on edge, wanting to know its source. Nevertheless, I knew he'd just keep his mouth shut.

-0-

Waking up the next morning, (in which I confronted the infamous showers with the various buttons), I pulled out a seat and sat down comfortably, laying my head on the table. Our mentor, whose nickname for some reason was Meat, smiled, a little creepily, at me. He had the District Ten humor, something I think Drale lacked in. I did too, a bit.

Soon, Drale walked out, his dark hair still wet and sticking to his forehead. His toned skin a pink color (I'm guessing he lost his battle to the shower). An Avox came by and held a towel out for him. Drale waved it away.

"Just take it," our escort said. Drale's brown eyes narrowed on the man. He still didn't accept the towel.

"I can get my own towel," Drale stated crossly. "I may be in the Capitol but I refuse to act like you people." My partner stood and walked to his room, the door closing with a solid slam.

I brought my head up to watch him go, propping my elbow up on the table. Of course, it just landed on my fork, sending it flying to the floor. I bent to pick it up, but Meat laid a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"Just let the 'vox get it," he said, shrugging. I still bent, but my hand met the Avox's.

"Thank y-" the words hung in the air. Only now did I truly look at the worker. He had to be around Drale's age, maybe a little older, by a year. For someone like an Avox, he was a hulking figure, a little on the misshapen side. A fair resemblance to a caveman.

My jaw hung open. The boy stared at me, a little startled, but also confused. He tried to speak, but, of course, he couldn't. He just mouthed one word.

Everyone had gone quite. I realized Drale had come back inside, a fluffy towel draped over his head.

"Theo," I said incredulously.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I observed glances being exchanged.

"You know him?" Meat asked. I tried to swallow, but my throat constricted.

With a slight croak in my voice, I uttered the few words I'd never think I would ever say. "Theo. He's my brother."

_**Tada! First official "Pre-Games" chapter. I'm so excited!**_

**Oh, and a question that has nothing to do with this story whatsoever; Can a manga be considered a book? I've never really read one before, but I started reading this one my brother just finished and it was really cool. But my mom doesn't consider it a "book," though, and made a face when he handed it to me. I just said it's like a Japanese comic book. What's the problem with that?**

**Read and review, my friends. I appreciate all the reviews, and I watch my email like a hawk.**


	16. Genius

**Hm… what to do, what to do…. Obviously, I have a little writer's block. Not sure how this will end…. Wish me luck.**

_**Rimmer Kamerman, District 2 Tribute**_

Clinique, our mentor raised an eyebrow at me as I slipped out of Cadette's room. I just shrugged, taking a plate and finding a spot at the table.

"Is she coming?" she asked, her fork hovering in the air. I smirked.

"In three…two…one." I waved my finger, and at that precise moment, I scream vibrated through the walls, followed by a _thump, crash, _and most importantly an "_I'm gonna kill him."_

Crashing in from her suite came Cadette, half her face a delightful pea green and her clothes drenched in (what she thinks is) water. She hobbled a bit to walk up to me. I stood up, arms crossed over my chest and looking at her questionably.

"I'M GOING TO FREAKING SHANK YOU THE MOMENT I GET THE CHANCE!" she roared, the other half of her face turning an angry red. I stepped back from the girl. Scooping up a knife from the table, I tossed it to her.

"There you go," I said cheekily. "But you gotta catch me first." Cadette glared daggers at me, hobbling forward. I turned in mock fright, running away in slow-motion. Clinique bit down hard on the side of her cheeks, finding sudden interest in her fork. I exaggerated another step and tripped slowly, rolled once, and got back up.

"Phew, I'm tired," I breathed, wiping invisible sweat from my face. Darting my hand in, I took the knife swiftly from Cadette's grip. "Don't worry you'll be fine in a few minutes, and just use some syrup, soap, and hot water to wash yourself off." The girl glared at me yet again. There are many things I wonder about that girl.

Does she have a permanent scowl on her face? Does she sleep with a beret? Is it common for tributes to voice the fact they want to kill their district partner? (That one wasn't quite a question about her specifically)

As Cadette took the syrup from the table and walked back to her room, Clinique cocked her head at me. "How does syrup help?"

I crunched down on my bacon, smiling. "It doesn't."

**Training Day**

_**Kyla Sprit, District 9 Tribute**_

I couldn't believe how confident Quinten was upon arriving down into the training area, he walked up –smiling! - to some other kids. Some of these kids looked scary on TV but seeing how big they actually were made me scutter back. I stared at them with wide eyes.

Another batch of kids rode down. They streamed in, some shoving me around. A girl with a weird hat (beret, is it?) shoved me once, while the boy I recognized from Seven shoved me hard enough to make me fall to the floor. I shuttered in a nervous breath. Bentley was… I had no idea what would happen to my brother. Just he won't have me.

I wanted to burst into tears right there, but I held down that whirlwind of emotion. A face appeared in my blurring vision. Staring up, my eyes found the blue ones of a girl. She looked about sixteen with a speckling of freckles on her nose.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly. I gave a discrete sniffle.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I murmured. As we were called to attention, the girl turned her head briefly in that direction, then back to me.

"I'm Allie," she whispered. "Good luck."

Under my breath, I mumbled, "And may the odds be ever in your favor."

_**Trey Canter, District 7 Tribute**_

I twirled the ax one last time around my head, driving in down solidly on the heavy wood figure. The worker at hand nodded in approval. "Very nice. Exactly what I would expect from a Seven."

"It's Trey Canter," I said, setting back my shoulders. "Not Seven. You should learn the name of your new Victor." From behind, I felt something loop around my neck, something like rope. It tightened, and I strived to keep my breathing and heartbeat steady.

"Is this true, Seven?" a voice whispered in ear. "Because I think you may be mistaken." The girl, as I assumed it was a girl, lifted off the rope, her hands running along my neck and shoulders.

Finally, I could turn. A girl, about my age, stood, her slender frame rocking slightly. Honey colored hair curled around her ears. In her hand she swung a decent looking noose.

"Well, aren't you handy with ropes," I snickered, but not very rudely. You have to show you're interested, but not by too much.

She tossed easily over her shoulder, eyeing me carefully. A slight smile danced upon her lips. "It's quite a trade in my district."

The corner of my mouth crooked up in a smile. "And your name?"

"Official title? Brooke Liam," she introduced grandiloquently. "Female Tribute of District Four, and Future Winner of the 100th Hunger Games."

I stepped closer, closing in on the space between us. "Really? I thought it would have been Brooke Liam, Hottest Girl in District Four." I added a wink at the end for emphasis. We were close, are noses nearly touching.

"You're quite confident of yourself aren't you?" she said, her voice a mere whisper. Without another word, we both stepped back. Brooke turned. Halfway to the dagger station, she glanced over her shoulder, smirking.

"Glad to know you can't take your eyes off me," she called. "That's exactly how the Capitol will act when I'm on their TV screen."

She's smooth. Picking up my ax, I hefted it over my shoulder. Just how I like 'em.

_**Arianne Misham, District 6 Tribute**_

"Find your happy place. Find your happy place." Dorian raised his eyebrows at me, in a concerned sort of manner. I blinked a few times, looking at the boy.

He shrugged. "Don't mind me." He strode off, eyeing the stations nervously.

So I guess I'm winging it. My eyes scanned over the Training Room. The boy from Seven swung an ax like it was a child's toy. The girl from One dueled a training dummy with two deadly looking swords. I noticed how the boy from Twelve watched the archery station with a certain longing in his eyes, but strode up to the edible plants.

I took a few deep breaths. I couldn't do any of this. I couldn't learn to do any of this in two days. What was I to do?

_Stick to your roots. _The line popped up in my head. I don't know if I had read it in a book or if it was something Father had said. Instinctively, my eyes swung to the camouflage station.

Perfect.

The attendant seemed eager to have someone and chattered on. I grabbed various juices and paints, taking a seat on the floor. In addition, I pulled a pencil from my pocket. Another tribute (the girl from Ten) was now talking to the attendant while a second girl (Seven, was it?) was having fun rubbing the mud over her hands.

Without realizing it, I had begun to draw the Seven girl. Time ticked by. My nerves eased and I felt relatively calm. Not happy, but calm.

A loud yell, followed almost immediately by a _thwunk, _made its way through my thoughts. Glancing up, I found the razor sharp point of one of the throwing daggers inches from my face. The clinks of metal striking some sort of surface stopped. Voices eased midsentence.

Looking up, I found Ten standing over me, holding the hilt of the dagger firmly in her hand. I didn't really notice her, really notice her, until now. I've never seen a face quite like this. A heart shaped composed of a small nose, pointed teeth and ears and purple eyes. I would have expected for her toes to curl up or a demand for my blood.

The actual girl now on paper spoke up. "How'd you do that?"

Ten, I observed, began to tremble slightly as she examined the blade. "I have no idea," she murmured.

The attendant from the dagger station jogged over. "Oh sorry 'bout that," he said, snatching the blade from Ten's grip. "Someone had knocked over the target and it missed. Proves me right for letting her try throwing the dagger blindfolded." As an after thought, he added, "Nice reflexes by the way."

He said it as if he were apologizing for hitting the baseball into your lawn.

"That was quite the catch," the attendant at our own station said, once the other man had walked away. "Tanya Ride, from Ten, correct?" Ten, Tanya, nodded. She stared at her hands. Was it just me, or did she stare at them…like she was afraid?

_**Robyn Achene, District 11 Tribute **_

It was nice to have lunch after all the freaky crap going on. The Careers joined together. I guess the Trey kid could be classified as a legitimate Career. I saw him training. Mental note: Keep big scary axes or weapons of the sorts _far_ away from him.

Most kids just kept to themselves, or to their district partner. I found myself sitting across from a kid I couldn't quite recall. Wouldn't hurt to break the ice.

"Hey," I nodded. The guy nodded back. That pretty much ended our conversation.

I only just realized I had subconsciously been sifting my food to be neatly not touching, arranged in a certain manner. Slightly disgusted with myself, I mixed it together in a big heap. Cutting a chunk of whatever meat was on my table, I chewed it thoughtfully. No matter what, it climbed nowhere near my Mother's cooking.

"Not as good as Mom's," I laughed softly under my breath.

_**Dia Lockhart, District 5 Tribute**_

No matter how much you hate the Capitol, this food was fricken' awesome. Having not eaten the best food all my life, I crammed everything down with urgency. Several Careers and various officials sent me repulsed expression's, in which I answered with opening my mouth and showing them my chewed food.

Kaeden sat of to the side, not really interested in eating.

"Hey, watch this," Seven said in a low voice. He casually stuck out his foot, right when his district partner passed by. "Hey," he called louder. This seemed to distract her enough to make the foot go unnoticed.

Her bony figure flew in the air for a second then tumbled to the floor.

"Watch yourself, freak," he said, smirking. Two of the girls broke out in laughter; another, from One, just rolled her dark blue eyes with a small smile. A blonde tribute, Four, shrugged, while another…was he glaring at Seven? He was one of the few that I actually remembered his name. Rimmer.

"Is she the one you said wanders in the woods?" The girl from Two snickered.

"Yeah," girl Four put in. "Probably can't nab a single boy." She tucked a lock of her honey-colored hair behind her ear. "Pity. Well, not really."

Everyone was staring, but didn't say anything. Not even the officials. They even found it slightly amusing.

I slammed my utensil down. That's it. I spent a good portion of my life being talked down to by people just like that. I also spent a portion watching it go by, left unsaid. Not any more. Standing, I strode over to the table. My life may end within the next few days, so what do I got to lose?

"What the fuck is your problem?" I demanded. The table, and everyone else (well, not really them, but the table) sat silent. I swear you could hear a pin drop.

The girl stood and dusted herself off, as if nothing had happened.

"You gonna let him do that to you?" I asked. My gaze remained fierce, as well as my tone. The girl shrugged.

"Trey will never learn. He's an ignorant fool who'll never change, much like the rest of the world," she said, her tone light and airy, reminding me of the wind. "Of course, I would not like him to have the satisfaction of showing my discomfort and anger. He is an asshat after all."

Her comment earned several snorts of laughter and quickly hidden smirks. The "asshat" stood. "What you call me?"

I intervened, stepping between the two. _"ASS-HAT," _I said loudly, enunciating the two syllables. Twisting around, I said, "You're right, he can't even figure out we're insulting him."

Trey burned red with fury. He sent an angry fist towards me. Reflexively, I ducked down. "You wouldn't hit a girl, would you?" I asked, as stood and attempted to kick me.

"Looks like you can't hit a girl." Trey reached out now, and was able to take hold of my shirt collar. He looked like a big dude, but turned out it was really pure muscle. He lifted me like a sack of potatoes with one hand.

"Would you like to rephrase that?" He hissed. I guess it had crossed the line, 'cause the Peacekeepers finally interfered. They plucked me from his grip, pulling the boy back.

"I'm gonna get you freak," he yelled. "You and your idiot friend."

I was practically slammed down back into my seat. Lunch time finally ended.

We were herded back into the Training Room. "Thank you," the chick from seven said. "I go by Ree, by the way." I flicked a strand of magenta out of my eyes. My stylists had not only let me keep it, but put some permanent stuff in it. A lot more vibrant, but smells weird.

"Dia," I said, veering away from her. "And it was nothing. Just forget about it."

As I handled one of the swords at the station with a bit uncertainty, Rimmer inched over to me smirking.

"Asshat," he said in a low, humored voice. The boy shook his head. "Genius."

**This one was fun writing. Ha, asshat. I think I'm getting better at writing at the different angles, with different opinions.**

**So question time again. Several of the same questions but I think you get a little deeper into it.**

**Most Badass**

**Possible Romance**

**Possible Alliance**

**Sweetest Personality**

**Funniest Moment (An exact moment that made you crack up. I may not be the funniest person in the world but I have some humorous moments)**

**Tribute You Want to Die a Horrible Death**

**Have fun! (Okay, maybe the last one is a little obvious…)**

**May the odds be ever in your favor. Even if you're an asshat.**


	17. It's Just Business, Nothing Personal

**I probably stare at a blank document for ten minutes before I actually write something. (Drums fingers) okay…um…hm…thinking…okay, got something!**

**An opening author's note! That's about it.**

_**Westria Vise, District 1 Tribute**_

Trenton watched me as I walked in. My training uniform tugged a little tightly around my stomach, either from muscle, or the fat I gained eating this Capitol food. I sat down slowly and he still stared.

"What, are you expecting me to dance or something?" I asked, sipping the mug set out. Orange juice, but it ran clear. No pulp?

Carson was already seated. He remained expressionless all the time and it made me wonder what he was thinking. We were guaranteed allies, being Careers and naturally gravitating towards each other, but it would be nice to know what's going on in that cranium of his.

I also felt sort of bad for Cars. Since Trenton was only hoping for me to win, Carson pretty much was screwed for sponsors and such. Trenton doesn't give a damn about him making it out.

Second day of training. Trenton rambled on about various techniques I needed to work on. My mind drifted, running my fingers across the silk tablecloth.

"Got it?" he said.

"Uh," I stammered slightly. "Yeah, sure." Just nod and act like you know what he's talking about.

My mind's been drifting a lot lately, much to Trenton's annoyance. I still couldn't get what Trey (my friend Trey, not the asshat, which I'm pretty sure everyone calls him now, from District Seven) said.

I don't fear my father. He's just a dick. Trenton is always working me to the full extent and still thinks I'm worthless. I'm just another prize to be earned in his eyes. My mom left his ass behind a long time ago and never looked back. I just wish I could do the same thing.

So basic plans for entering arena, according to Trenton; stay in Career pack and take down stronger competitors. After awhile, maybe down to the final ten or less, split in the middle of the night, maybe taking down a few in their sleep. Live long enough, killing everyone in my path, and win Hunger Games.

Will this all happen? I'll be in the Hunger Games. But if I come back, I know Trenton will just parade me around like another trophy. He expects me to win.

Trenton barked other words of advice to me as we made our way to the elevator. As the doors closed, I slid down the wall of the small space.

"Glad he isn't your dad, huh?" I said. Carson shrugged. He looked at me with a little sparkle of sympathy in his eyes.

"What?" I asked. "I have to listen to him. The damn man pretty much threatened me into volunteering." Carson remained silent, but I could still detect the pity in his gaze. He shrugged again as if to say, _whatever._

I stood and paced a bit. The elevator seemed to be a little faulty and kept catching and sort of grinded in its descent. "This is what I was literally born to do. I didn't have any other choice."

"You're the one who volunteered, not him." It took me a moment to realize Carson had spoken. His tone was even and seemed uninterested.

"Can people stop telling me that?" I practically screamed. "What else was I to do?"

The doors finally opened. Before we stepped out, Carson said, "Not volunteer. But I guess it's too late."

_**Kaeden Whitrow, District 5 Tribute**_

"Wake up, dunderhead," Dia knocked. I sat up in the bed, scowling somewhat at the girl. I guess she liked me enough to feel the need to insult me.

Honestly, I respected the girl. Any one who can stand up to an asshat like Trey deserves some recognition. Although, she may be going into the arena with a giant X on her back, you have to admit she has spunk.

Did I really just say that? This is what happens when you spend three years with your creepy uncle living in your house on top of sleep deprivation, as a result of volunteering for the brother of the girl you kissed right before hopping on a train to an awaited death.

I'm sounding like Neda now. Shaking away the thoughts, I hopped out of bed.

"I'm up." The brunette smiled slyly at me before slipping out and closing the door.

The training outfit was pretty simple, a black sleeveless shirt made of some stretchy material, and sweatpants. Each had a bright, snow white _5 _sewn neatly on it; one on the bottom of my leg, another on my back. I pulled on the clothes.

Dia stood outside my door, arms crossed over her chest. "I need to tell you something."

Tugging at my collar, I answered with an, "Okay?"

The girl's voice dropped. "Before I left, this guy came to talk to me. He wanted me to tell you anthrax isn't always detected by common doctors." She watched me carefully, looking for my reaction. Of course, I was obviously confused.

"What else did this guy say?" I asked. Dia shrugged.

"He said his name was Mitchell. And his Dad didn't have the head for suggesting a name." She appeared slightly embarrassed revealing the last bit.

Anthrax? Wasn't that some really deadly germ? We usually got vaccines for it, kind of mandatory in our district, at leas for the kids. Most adults got it too.

A faint memory sparked up within me. The nurse's office at school painted across my vision. A younger Neda sat next to me, twiddling her thumbs and chattering on. I remember that rush of pleasure when she leaned her head on my shoulder, a little tired from our gym class minutes before.

"My Mom typically doesn't like to get vaccines and booster shots," she prattled. "She believes the Capitol may be giving us some sort of steroid or injecting a microscopic tracker into our bloodstream."

"Neda Rosewood," said a wheezy voice. My friend stood and took a seat next to the desk. Even for her mother, that seemed sort of farfetched. Not getting her vaccines would juts kill her, right?

Anthrax. Is that what Mrs. Rosewood died of? It was uncommon, and the doctor didn't think upon it. The only way it would have gotten to her was if it had been given to her directly….

_**Teagan Aniston, District 12 Tribute**_

The fact I couldn't bend my arm drove me nuts. The memory still confused me. All I could think was A) oh my gosh, Kellen was that close to me and B) was someone trying to kill me? I was afraid to ask Kellen what happened.

Eating breakfast has been a pain. Most of the cuts had healed, but my arms and legs were quite raw. A bandage was wound tightly over my limbs, and I could barely bend my joints. Why did it have to be such a big bowl?

Our mentor had only won two years ago at the age of fifteen. He looks like a nightmare, and has a set heavy glare. Kellen stabbed at his breakfast, looking as gaunt as our mentor.

"Good morning," I squeaked. All I received were grunts of welcome. Kellen raised his head.

"How are you?" he asked. I knew he meant my arms.

"Better," I said softly. "They should be good by the time interviews come around." He nodded, shoving his fork in his mouth.

Our escort, sporting a sparkling red new haircut, burst with more excitement than the current atmosphere held. "Training Day number two!" he chortled.

Both of the other boys looked ready to strangle him. I chewed my breakfast thoughtfully, keeping silent.

Soon, we were shoved onto the elevator. Kellen pulled some slips of paper, some splotched with red spots, from his pocket. "You'll never believe this."

_**Quinten Wilkens, District 9 Tribute**_

"So what are you planning to do?" I asked. Kyla crossed herself, bighting her lip uncertainly.

"I have no idea. You?"

I shrugged. "I'll be able to figure out something. I always do."

The elevator finally stopped and we were able to get off. I strode up to Drale.

"So," I asked. "You in?" Drale shrugged.

"I'm not planning to make any alliances," he said. "No offense, but I'm no people person."

I nodded. "I see that. But how do you expect to go far without someone to watch your back? The Careers have a whole pack. What about us other guys?"

"Funny thing about Career packs," Drale said in his Ten drawl. "They watch each other's backs to find a suitable spot for a knife." The older boy shrugged by me.

Kyla, I found, stood next to me. "You're looking for allies?" She was only a bit shorter than me.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

Kyla shrugged. "What are you saying? You know, to get them on your side."

"Basic stuff," I answered. "I'm smart and if we can form a team, we'll have a pack that can beat out the Careers."

"Who've you considered?"

I turned to face the other tributes, strewn throughout the space. I listed them off on my fingers. "Drale and Kaeden, because they seems strong and can handle some weapons. Tanya, because of her reflexes. No normal being can catch a knife like that. Jayden just seems reliable, light on his feet too. Dia is pretty hardcore, and Kellen Mellark, obviously, 'cause he's Kellen Mellark." I turned back to Kyla and saw the hurt in her eyes.

"Oh, okay, that seems suitable," she said, her voice snagging a bit.

"No offense Kyla, but how far do you expect to make it? You're less than five feet tall and have no experience."

"You should be talking," she snapped. "Do you realize you meet those exact specifications? You think you know people but you don't, Quint. Not as well as you think." The girl stormed off.

Wow, she's something. I feel bad for her, sort of. Kyla stands no chance in the Games. I'm at least trying to build myself up. She dare questions my intellect. That girl has another thing coming.

_**Filler Charlesworthe, District 4 Tribute**_

Upon entering the Training Center, I knew several things. I wouldn't bother with anything like the tridents or ropes. I already knew how to handle those. What I focused on was all the other stations, on techniques I needed to fine tune. I spent some time on stations like edible plants and traps, but really, my obligation was to cram in as much weapon training as possible.

The pack had a variety of qualities. Carson and Cadette were jacks of all trades, knowing a bit about each weapon and hand-to-hand. Rimmer (he may not seem like your typical Career, but he's still trained) and Westria were pretty good at hand-to-hand, as well as sword fighting. Trey, well, he may be an asshat, but he has a knack for that ax.

Brooke was a little different. She wasn't a hardcore Career, but had a fair knowledge of rope tying and knew how to wield a trident.

"Hey, Fil." The voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Brooke stood at the tracking station, waving me over. Wiping away the sweat forming on my forehead, I went over to where she was kneeling over some dirt samples.

"I can't figure them out," she sighed with an over exaggerated pout. "Could you help me?"

Smiling, I dropped to a knee to run my hands lightly over the samples. "This is a larger person. You can tell by how big the print is, and how deep it is." Brooke nodded, her hand brushing against mine. I laid a hand on the small of her back.

"Now, this one," I took Brooke's hand and laid it on the track. "You can tell the person is trying to be stealthy or has experience in being stealthy. They're not some random thickheaded tribute with no sense of direction. If it's not a big print though, it just may be a small person." My voice became lower. Her hair brushed against my neck and face.

"How big would your tracks be?" she asked. "You know what they say about guys with big feet." I chuckled lightly under my breath.

"What _do _they say?" Brooke smirked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" The blonde stood, her hips swaying as she walked off to the next station.

A grunt of disgust made me twist my head around. "What?"

Cadette stood at the next station, analyzing various poisons. "You're really flirting with _her?_" she asked, running a finger over a piece of cork used to keep the bottle closed. "I thought you would have better taste, Filler."

Standing to full height, I walked up to her. "What? Are you jealous?" The smirk couldn't help but appear on my face. Cadette was one of those people you can't help but try to get on her nerves. You'd have to be the sweetest, cheeriest person in the world to be nice to her.

Cadette wrinkled her nose in repugnance, along with giving a terse laugh. "Jealous of the girl who'll hump anything that'll move and looks nice? No thank you."

"Well that's a little harsh of you," I added, running a hand through my hair. "You barely know her."

Cadette shrugged, pulling her beret lower over her face. "It's only harsh because it's true. I swear, she looked like she was about to _kiss_ me earlier." The blonde shuddered. "I will never get over that."

**And I do take your thoughts into consideration, but I do have my own feel for the characters. If there's a specific character everyone hates, well of course I'm not going to kill them. It took seven whole books for Voldemort to die. So don't get to comfortable quite yet, ha ha! **


	18. I Am So Stupid

***I've been planning this for awhile. Hope you're genuinely surprised.***

**And I think my writing isn't always clear. If you have any specific questions, don't hesitate to P.M. I will try to explain it as best as I can.**

**And I am currently trying to do POV's of all the people I've kind of neglected.**

_**Kellen Mellark, District 12 Tribute**_

This "Think Twice" Quarter Quell does not have any point to it. What did they do now? Had the girls go first for individual training.

My session I guess was pretty predictable. I wanted to make it creative and notable.

My guess was that, in recent years, alcohol was banned from being drunk during the individual training. Some of the Gamemakers were moody, though, which made me wonder if it would have been better that they were drunk.

Plucking the apple from the mouth of the roasted pig they feasted on, I passed it to Fulton, the Head Gamemaker.

"When I say _now, _throw this as hard, and as high as you can into the air," I stated, taking several steps back. "Ready?"

Fulton rolled up her long purple sleeves. Something about her seemed more childish, yet more mature than the other Gamemakers. Does that make sense? She nodded, a small smile creeping across her face.

"Now!" Fulton reacted with a high toss of the apple. I pulled back on the sting, taking aim. I let it go, and watched as the arrow soared and skewered the apple with a satisfying crunch, _thwack,_ sound. I rolled forward and reached up, the apple landing in my hand. I kind of fumbled with it a bit, catching the arrow bit, but played it out like I had meant to do it.

I still had plenty of time, so, ripping the arrow from the apple, I tossed the fruit to the next Gamemaker in line. "Same thing," I said. "But back up a bit." The man did so, and I prayed this would work.

I announced, "Now!" but as the man sent it spiraling through the air, I launched several arrows forward, pinning back the long robe of the Gamemaker. Most of the purple clad figures dodged to the side, calling for help. Some were obviously angry. Hell, most _were_ angry.

Fulton, the person who created my future death trap, saved me. It started out low, but her laughing crescendos into a chortling tirade, snorts escaping her.

"That's amazing, kid," she said breathlessly.

The man pinned to the wall, although obviously grumpy, laughed as an Avox tugged the arrows from his robes. "You have your mother's spunk," he said.

"The apple trick," another came in. "Classic."

I felt a rush of annoyance at this, and self-loathing. Dammit, so did I just think up that trick subconsciously or something? Thinking about it, I do remember Haymitch once telling me how she shot the apple at the Gamemakers.

Fulton smiled. "Kellen, do you have anything else to share with us?"

Glaring slightly, I muttered, "No, I believe this will suffice from Katniss Everdeen's son." No one paid much attention to me as I stalked off to the elevator. I jammed hard on the _12_ button, and ascended up.

I jerked back as I found Teagan standing right in front of me upon the doors opening. "Um, hi?" I said awkwardly.

"Do you know what just happened?" she asked her voice anxious.

I shook my head. "Why?" This was worrying me now. The brunette veered off into the living room, which I guess meant to follow. Her pigtails trailed behind her and I plopped down on the couch.

"I'm not sure if they've been showing it throughout, but…." Her voice trailed off. A message scrolled across the bottom, the Capitol seal turning on the screen.

President Frost appeared on the screen.

"Hello, tributes," she greeted with an icy air. "As some of you already know, we have added another twist to the Games. Usually, the individual sessions with the Gamemakers I kept private. However, this year, we are allowing you and only you, the tributes, to view them. The rest of Panem will only go by the knowledge of the scores."

Damn. But I also realized something that's sort of off topic. Gamemaker Fulton called me kid, and Kellen. Not "Mellark Kid" or "Katniss Everdeen's Son" or "Kellen Mellark" like my name was supposed to be some legend.

She didn't mention my parents And I couldn't help but be grateful to her for that.

_**Jayden Crush, District 11 Tribute**_

A very interesting twist, to say the least. Was it good or bad, hard to say; you get an advantage on knowing your opponents' abilities. But you also start thinking how they could kill you that way.

But I shouldn't worry about that now. Robyn was sprawled out upside down on the couch, only slightly interested in the news. Her sarcasm can saw at my nerves but I just shrug it off.

The Careers showed off with some interesting (and scary) sessions. The dude from Five had a decent time with the spears. The girl from Six painted out a scene on a far wall of the Training Room. My eyes started to blink rapidly as she swirled the different paints and mud on herself. She seemingly completely vanished from sight. The girl form Seven skipped around, whistling a tune. It seemed eerie and chills ran down my spine as I watched her, throwing knives from various hidden pockets on her.

The boy from Nine, Quinten, just rambled on about various descriptions on people. Interesting angle and he pulled it off with a certain cuteness and innocence. He did one on almost every tribute. Apparently, I'm "just the nice guy, who always looks to the bright side."

That's kind of spot on.

Ten threw some stuff around lifted, weights and such. I watched Robyn handle a scythe with ease and watched myself hop from station to station, poised on my toes, shooting random stuff with a bow around the room.

Several people did arrows, but no one can pull it off as well as Kellen Mellark. Legend has it Katniss Everdeen shot one of the Gamemakers or something, but she shot an apple. I really have no idea.

Seemingly, at the end, he barged out of the room kind of angry. Irritated, maybe a better word. I have no idea.

_Kellen is easy, _a young voice rang out in my head. _He's just like his Mom. Stubborn, and dedicated. But he also feels over expected, living up to the family name and all. He wants to make a name for himself, and just himself, and wants people to see him for him._

I wonder if Kellen even knew that himself.

_**Allie Manson, District 8 Tribute**_

Rocker sat watching the playbacks, digging his palms into his eyes. "I am so stupid," he muttered. My attention had drifted, by thumb stroking the picture of my mother in my locket.

"What's wrong?" I asked, snapping to attention.

"You know how I thought I would do well with a bow and arrow and all?" he asked, running his fingers through his hair.

"Yeah…." My voice trailed off.

He gestured at the television with both hands. "Just look at Kellen Mellark's session." I leaned forward, paying closer interest. My jaw dropped slightly, and I swallowed nervously. He was excellent. His hand moved smoothly to the quiver and back, pulling the bowstring and taking aim without any hesitation.

I bit my lip. My session, I had been so lost. Had no idea what to do. I'm a decent fighter, but no expert in any kind of weapon. My trap skills are pretty good so I had just showed them that. They described me as having "quite some nimble fingers." I wasn't sure if they were mocking me, since I set it off on myself once in the process.

I patted Rocker's shoulder. Seeing this side of him scared me a bit. He's usually this cocky smart-aleck. Had a certain swagger in his walk.

We waited a while before the actual recaps came on. Of course, it was just the training scores but I was still a nervous wreck. If I get a high score, I'll get sponsors, but the Careers will see me as a target. A low score and I'll just be thought of as weak, becoming less of a target, but not as much as a wanted ally or a tribute to sponsor.

Though Rocker and I were already allied. It's just one of those things that are implied, never really settled. He talked about "when we're in the arena" so what else would you think?

My stomach tightened as it went on. Rocker got a Six. An okay score. My face appeared and a knot formed. Five. Flashes right up and disappears again.

A five. All my hard work and all I manage is a five. Sure I wasn't as deadly as the other tributes, but I deserve some credit.

"It's alright," Forest's voice rumbled in my ear. I jerked up, startled by his sudden appearance. Our mentor shrugged.

"Not everyone does well on the private sessions," he said, picking something out of his teeth.

"But how many of those people actually make it out of the arena?" Rocker asked, arms crossed over his chest. Forest's expression said it all.

I'm doomed. Absolutely doomed.

_**Violet Calloway, District 3 Tribute**_

They announced the scores soon after the recaps of the sessions. Klaus mumbled various things under his breath.

"What was that?" I asked. He pressed a finger to his lips, his eyes not leaving the screen. I remained quiet until the end.

"Okay, got it," he whispered. I knew that he meant he had memorized the scores. Our scores weren't so impressive. I only got a Four, while Klaus got a Three. I guess tinkering together one of my inventions (which I used avidly in District Three) doesn't really work.

Klaus recited everything easily.

"District One: Westria Vise, 9, Carson Drox, 9

District Two: Cadette Flinch, 9, Rimmer Kamerman, 8

District Three: Violet Calloway, 4, Nicholas Calloway, 2

District Four: Brooke Liam, 8, Filler Charlesworthe, 10

District Five: Dia Lockhart, 5, Kaeden Whitrow, 7

District Six: Arianne Misham, 8, Dorian Happens, 3

District Seven: Reeda Kails, 6, Trey Canter, 10

District Eight: Allie Manson, 5, Rocker Tripp, 6

District Nine: Kyla Sprit, 7, Quinten Wilkens, 5

District Ten: Tanya Ride, 5, Drale Shetler, 8

District Eleven: Robyn Achene, 7, Jayden Crush, 7

District Twelve: Teagan Aniston, 6, Kellen Mellark, 11

I wondered if our fate rested in these scores. Klaus gripped my hand, his gaze never leaving the screen.

_**Kyla Sprit, District 9 Tribute**_

Oh, Quint.

"I mean really, I know these people better than the back of my hand. And what do I get? A five! A stupid five! These people are stupid, every one of them. I swear, they wouldn't know a real tribute if they were to kill someone with their bare hands."

"Maybe you should have more experience," I snapped. I probably would have felt a little sorry for him if he hadn't made that comment yesterday. I'm still a little raw from it, and not in the full mood to forgive him quite yet.

Quinten glared at me. "Don't try to be the wise guy with me. I can get these tributes on my side. I know how there mind works.

Oh, Quint, I thought. I learned something very quick in the past few days. Don't let the Games get to you, before you get to them.

**I think this is good enough for now. I loved this twist. So many ideas are floating around in my head for the arena. I'm posting this kind of late (But I usually do post my chapters kind of late, don't I?) since I just got back from white water rafting. Four hour drive on a coach bus to the site, five hours coming back, ugh.**

**Another random thought: I had been looking for new songs on iTunes. Kind of bored, I typed in "Hunger Games" to see what came up. Strangely, I found the song "How to Save a Life." I thought it was kind of weird.**

**And guess what? My laptop died, as in, won't turn on at all. And all I had written for the next chapter? Gone. So sorry for the delay, since I was over halfway done with it. I now have to get over my frustration and deepening writer's block to write it. Wish me luck.**


	19. Interview Part 1: Only When It Rains

**Finding my happy place...finding my happy place...**

**I get it I have a lot of typos (place smiley here). I really need a word processor. Or should just check over my writing. That may be better.**

**_My own inner author voice_**

Nicholas suspected he was a cyborg. Cadeete questioned that if she shoved a knife in him, would it simply just bounce off? Quinten knew all possibilities of this actually being him were quiet slim. Arianne...well, she was just drawing. But Dorian whispered to her how he believed the man on the stage was a highly developed mutt.

Caesar Flickerman smiled over the crowd of the awaiting Capitol citizens. Many did question how he still managed to be alive. Of course, those many lived in the districts. Capitol citizens didn't think to question anything. Why would they?

He took a seat, his outfit a patchwork of various elaborate fabrics, all from different suits and previous worn clothing through all his years in his position. A fanciful rainbow of spiky colors sprouted from his head, his face young, yet old all together.

Caesar warmed up the crowd with an opening speech and his own witty humor. Finally taking his seat, the interviews began.

**_Westria Vise, District 1 Tribute_**

More sex change ups. Carson went up first. He held his head up straight, and looked pretty intimidating (yawn), but also very bored. Caesar joked around with him, but he just answered with emotionless, uninterested one-two word answers. Typical Carson.

Cracking my fingers, I stood as the buzzer rang out. Smiling, I strode up the steps, saying standard hellos to Caesar.

"So Westria, I hear your mentor of the year is also you're father," he started up, leaning in with some exaggeration to show his interest. "Thoughts?"

It sucks. I want to leave and get this over with already, just so I can be away from him. If I could I would kill him. In. His. Sleep.

"Good, I suppose," I said, choosing my words carefully. I always groan about Trenton, so something may slip by habit. "It helps. He is good," if you count being a total dick, "when it comes to training and tips. And he knows my strengths and weaknesses."

Caesar smiled. "You're Mom must be proud. With a husband like that and a daughter who could live up to be just like him."

It came out before I could get control. Right from my lips (and nose?) slipped a snort of laughter. Caesar cocked his head, along with the rest of the Capitol, in a gesture of confusion.

"Well, Mom left a long time ago. And Trenton and I are more opposites."

"I guess guess she just didn't want to live the life of a celebrity," he shrugged. "But of course, your father was a factor in you volunteering, correct?"

If you mean flat out threatened me to volunteer, sure. "Well yes, but there was the district love for it. And in the end, I'm the one who rose my hand." I rose my own hand.

All my life, I have tried to go against what Trenton would expect of me. He thinks I should just give up, I try harder. He thinks I can't run faster, I do just that, my breath ragged and creaky afterwards. Yet I did exactly what he expected. I raised my hand.

I hated him. I hated everybody. Trenton, for never being a father, my Mom, for abandoning me, the Games, for getting me into this mess, at Caesar Flickerman for just being here.

But most of all I hated myself, for not being strong enough to say no.

"Your father must be such a man you look up to," Caesar said. My fist clenched.

"No he isn't," I stated. Caesar's eyes widened, slightly taken aback. "He's an asshat. He doesn't love me. He loves the pet monkey he can get to do what he wants, to make him look good. He's not a person to idolize; Trenton is a monster who should have died when he was in the Games, so I wouldn't have to be in this stupid world. I hate him. I. Fucking. Hate. Him."

The audience stared at me, stunned. Parents covered their children's ears. Peacekeepers looked at me gruffly. Caesar seemed to be having a difficult time putting his charm back together. All he could manage out was, "What's an asshat?"

Before I could answer, the buzzer rang, announcing my three minutes up.

What the hell did I just do?

**_Rimmer Kamerman, District 2 Tribute_**

Damn. And that's coming from me. Westy (she seems to hate that nickname, but I can't help it), on wobbly heels she had strolled in so confidentally before, took her seat. As I walked up the steps, I looked up at the screens to see her stone cold face, all emotion being held back by some barrier. But Westy's eyes said it all.

My interview was pretty basic. Held my head up, smiled at the crowd. This seemed to ease the tension that had built up from Westy. Caesar's charm lit up his ageless face yet again, the interviews continued on its normal fashion. As my buzzer rang I stood, breathing a sigh of relief. That wasn't so bad.

Cadette brushed by me, her gray sleeve elbowing into my side. I decided to be nice and not steal her beret. Unlike most of the girls, she wore a dress shirt and pants. Cadette made it pretty clear she didn't want to wear the dress. For those wondering, well, um, let's just say, I have no idea how she got the lighter.

The interview started up pretty stiff. The moment I understood Cadette's angle, I knew she was going to bomb. Hero, our mentor, had suggested her usual snotty tough way, but the escort wanted something more kind and subtle. Even respectful, which, as I heard Cadette thank Caesar, was just not human.

Towards the end, my ears couldn't help but perk up as she mentioned her sister, Jade. "Can't let her have all the glory, huh?" Caesar said with a crooked smile.

Cadette shrugged. "Yeah. She isn't fully trained, and how would you expect her to win then?" She face softened a bit and her eyes a little cloudy. Maybe Cadette wasn't as big and mean as you think.

Her buzzer rang. As she sat down next to me, I could tell she knew she'd done horribly. I nudged her.

"You don't need to impress all the sponsors right now. Once you start killing everyone in that arena, you'll be fine." Cadette snorted, pulling her beret low over her blue eyes. She reached up, mussing up my fohawk.

"Rimmer?" I raised an eyebrow. "Just shut up."

_**Violet Calloway, District 3 Tribute**_

As the girl from Two strode off, Klaus walked up. His suit jacket was of a shiny material, his shaggy hair trimmed down. He took his seat shaking hands with Caesar in a very formal manor. Anxiously, I twisted the rubberband around my wrist, wincing slightly as I accidentally snapped it back.

"So, Nicholas-" Caesar began.

"You can call me Klaus, if you please," my brother put in quickly. Caesar nodded.

"Klaus, I hear it's a special day for you," he stated with a wink. Klaus shrugged, as if it wasn't anything important. The bizarre man smiled turning towards the crowd.

"Our friend here is just a little bashful," He smiled even wider. "It is in fact his fourteenth birthday." The audience, at the sound of this, applauded, calling out various, "Happy Birthday's." Somehow, all of it made my stomach twist. This may be my brother's last birthday.

With a wave of his hand, Caesar quieted the crowd. "Don't you believe we should sing a tune for our good friend Nicholas, well, Klaus?" He stood, rocking his finger in the air, conducting the crowd in the cheer of "Happy Birthday." It was meant to be light, cheerful, _happy_, but the words were sputtered with a hint of mockery, and snide smiles. I tugged at my ribbon, making sure it was tight. My fingers drummed against my side, the purple velvet matching my ribbon exactly.

No matter what, Klaus will see another birthday. He'll live in the Victor Village, _actually in_ the building with Claudia. And when I die, it will not be in vain.

_**Brooke Liam, District 4 Tribute**_

I should have done this a long time ago. It's so simple. I mean, people adoring me? All the other _hot_ tributes? _Everyone_ loves me.

The buzzer rings. Filler sidled up onto the stage. His interview was pretty easy-going, he and Caesar exchanged random, though charming, banter. His buzzer rang. Blinking my eyelashes and nudging back my shoulders, I walked with a slight skip in my step onto the stage. I watched myself on the screens, the dress moving and floating about my feet.

Caesar smiled, a little strangely, at me. Exchanging greetings and compliments, the interviewer sat back in his seat. "So, Brooke. What is your favorite thing about the Capitol?" I tilted my head, tapping my chin in mock thought.

"Practically everything," I giggled. "The makeover, though much didn't have to be done, and of course, all the cute tributes." My eyes drifted over to the line of awaiting teens, just catching the wink Trey sent my way.

Caesar laughed. "Well, what would a 'cute tribute' have to do to get your attention?" My hands traced over the lace of my dress, smoothing out the creases.

"Hm..." I paused. What _did_ somebody have to do to get my attention? "Cute, obviously. And they have to love me," I said simply. I shrugged up my shoulders and hands, in a _I don't know_ kind of gesture. "I can love anybody."

The crowd laughed, but from somewhere on line, I heard the word "slut" hidden in a discrete cough. My eyes narrowed but I quickly broke the look. Such an ugly look. No one would like you, Brooke, if you don't look your best.

As my buzzer rang, the kid from Five walked on. God, he was a brute. Concealer won't kill you, hon. Behind him, a pair of ice blue eyes stared at me. The girl from Five had her arms crossed firmly over her chest, a slight smirk on her face. Her lips moved, exaggerating them as she mouth one word. _Slut._

I took my seat, rolling my eyes. I'm not a slut. I'm perfect. The breath would not leave my lungs, thoughts cluttering my head. _Nothing, worthless, pathetic, hideous._ I gripped Filler's hand, who smiled at me.

I am Brooke Liam. I am perfect.

**_Dia Lockhart, District 5 Tribute_**

I'm losing my touch. My big ego, self-pride, inner niceness gets in the way, and I help some girl out. You know, I wasn't thinking that at the moment. I just wanted to let that asshat (Everyone keeps giving me the credit of that word, but Ree made it up in the first place. Ah great, now I know her name) know that he can't mess with people like that. Now everyone thinks I'm some hero, that I'm _so_ nice. God, I have to stay focused (though, I couldn't help but crack up at Caesar's "What's an Asshat?").

Kaeden and Caesar spoke now. The kid seems to be off in his own world the past few days, ever since I told him about that anthrax thing. Another mystery yet to be solved (I swear, it feels like someone is making everything so mysterious, like some force writing my thoughts).

"-and so, long story short, I just had to volunteer. Neda is everything to me, and I knew she's be crushed if Milo...never made it back." My attention snapped back to the stage. By Kaeden's expression, I could tell this was kind of awkward for him to talk about. Weird, with our few small conversations, I found out that Kaeden had a set of twin sisters (surprised?), but he spent all his time with Neda. It's kind of obvious they like each other, and I've never even had a conversation with the girl.

"Neda must be some gal, huh?" Caesar said, playfully nudging Kaeden in the arm. He shrugged, leaning back a bit from Caesar. But you could still see the smile on his lips.

"Yeah," he said softly. "She is." The crowd fell into a deep _aw._ Somebody shoot me now. By his expression, I guess Kaeden was thinking the same thing.

Caesar snickered, in a polite manor. "How about you say something to Neda right now?" Instantly, a camera was shoved into his face. He stumbled with a few words, when finally he just clamped down his jaw.

"Neda?" It was like you could feel all of Panem leaning in to here his words. "Tell Milo this isn't his fault. And anthrax isn't commonly picked up by common doctors." The camera started to pull away but Kaeden raised a hand. "One more second. Neda, just make sure you kick some ass, whatever you do."

The buzzer rang.

Damn. And I thought I was tough.

**_Arianne Misham, District 6 Tribute_**

"Bite me." My eyes flickered up to the stage for a moment. The tough looking girl from Five sat, a permanent smirk on her face, being interviewed. Wait, Five, next is Six. I'm from Six. The buzzer hadn't even sounded, and she stood, striding off the stage. There was some ruckus among the Peacekeepers nearby, however, they hurriedly sped up the time until the buzzer rang.

Dorian's hand patted my shoulder as he walked up. My attention quickly flew to the giant television screens and flahing lights of the Capitol. And the people. So many people.

On stage, I caught sight of Dorian's blue eyes staring intently at me. His hands made a gesture of drawing circles in his palm. Really, you cannot draw any form of art like that. Oh wait, he wants me to draw. Yeah, that'll work.

At one point, a boy several spots down the line quietly murmured, "Awesome quote," as Dorian said, "I'm no genius, I just stick with problems longer." Not knowing exactly what they meant, I just kept sketching. Caesar Flickerman is quite the subject to draw.

The picture, it could use some color. Maybe I could request crayons or colored pencils when I got back. They pencils wouldn't be sharp, even though I'd never try to stab someone with it, but if they're a bit dull, it's actually better. The hair though, needs some shading...

An iron clad grasp wrapped around my upper arm. "Wha-?" I stammered as I was led (more like forced) onto the stage. Trembles ran down my spine and various other limbs. Those familiar dots of lights began to dance in my vision. My eyes drifted over to Dorian, who simply gave me a thumbs up sign.

Caesar smiled. "Don't be nervous, I won't bite." His smile broadened. "Just don't listen to Ms. Lockhart."

You know, Mr. Flickerman can put a smile on any one's face.

"Sorry, um," I stumbled for a moment, figuring out what to say. "I was a little busy. Drawing."

Mr. Flickerman's eyes lit up. "Ooo, drawing whom?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, calming a bit. I forced the sides of my mouth to creep up into a small, tight smile. "Of you." Caesar instantly started clapping excitedly.

"Let's see! Let's see!" Examining my book for a moment, I turned to the page, showing it forward. By Caesar's face, I could tell he was stunned. The man, I suppose, expected a cute little sketch. But this was something entirely different.

A camera shoved its way behind Caesar, and the crowd _ooo_-ed and _aw_-ed. I smiled proudly at this, just keeping my eyes away from the people. They just laid on Dorian, who had his own proud smile.

"So, are you nervous Arianne?" Caesar said as he passed the book back.

I couldn't help but shrug. "I don't like attention. Not one to live in big cities. Or really be outdoors. I had been homeschooled by Father up to the age of thirteen. I guess a new law had been put into affect, and I was forced to attend school. Before then, I had barely ever been past the garden of our home."

Caesar nodded intently. "What's the fear of being outdoors?"

Words bubbled out. "The thought of the world being so much bigger than you, and you're so small, comapred to it. We're all just so insignificant to everything else." And truly, the words were true. My heart raced as the lights seemed to grow hotter, the people doubling in number. I couldn't even find some comfort in the stars, who at least showed an end to the sky, if you imagine it that way.

"Are you ever happy?" His voice sound like an echo.

"Only when it rains."

**Finally done. I'm just going to split the interviews in half. Easier.**

**And, oh, so I'm writing this small little story, but I couldn't think of a name. Then it comes to me, and it just seems like a good for a main character; Dorian Happens. And his best friend; Trey Canter.**

**And I am absolutely tired. Went to an amusement park, and there were so many little kids. So many.**


	20. Interview Part 2: It Was Fixed

**Wow, you know when you get that one comment and you just feel so...thankful.**

**And the story with the characters; sadly enough, it's not a fanfiction, something of my own curious mind. Though, if you'd like to PM me, I could send you what I've got so far (though, it's only a few pages). And onto part Two of our interviews! (Points dramatically into the distance).**

**"Uh, Ms. Yelof? Other way."**

**"Oh, uh, right. Thanks, Fulton." (Points the other way)**

_**Trey Canter, District Seven Tribute, and Official Asshat**_

The freak needs to die. Her and her friend. I didn't volunteer just to be messed with by two girls.

Following the two losers came, you guessed it, greatness. I mastered that swagger to the stage, which definitely caught everyone's attention. You just gotta keep thinking Career. Taking a seat, I nodded a "'sup" sort of nod towards Caesar.

"Trey, you seem like a confident individual," Caesar started off, leaning back in my same casual manner. "How do you expect to do?"

I rolled my eyes. "Awesome, duh. Why would I risk my ass and volunteer if I didn't expect to win?" The comment had meant to make the crowd laugh. No reaction.

"Your district isn't as enthusiastic as certain others about the Games," Caesar continued on, crossing a leg over the other. "So why volunteer?"

Obviously, I expected the question. "People have always doubted me in the past. I want them to see what they're missing. I mean, don't hate me 'cause you can't be me."

Caesar laughed heartily at this. "Looks like my first statement was spot on." My senses magnified as I reviewed the reactions of the Capitol surroundings. Cameras snapped pictures, the flashes dancing off the pupils of those nearby. My, for lack of better words, sexy smile lit up the screens. The long rows of elaborate buildings sparkled with lights, like something from one of my brother's old books. The cheers and chatter of the Capitol people, their stupid accents one chortle away from me bursting with laughter.

We chatted a bit more, and I kept up my angle. Soon, my buzzer rang, and it was over.

I strolled off the stage, walking down the line of sitting tributes. My eyes widened slightly as I saw Brooke holding her district partner's hand, quickly narrowing at the sight.

Taking her nimble hand, I smoothly kissed it, the sides of my mouth perking up in a smile. Brooke had her own silly smile, and my eyes shifted over to the other guy. With my usual red contacts in, I glared. He shrugged, eyes rolling to the sky.

The girl was mine. No one can out do me in that department.

Finally taking my seat to the twitchy girl from Six, I zoned out as the rest of the interviews went on.

"Why didn't you like the film?" Caesar asked. I only half realized freak on the stage.

"Because I am the Phantom of the Opera." Okay, she's now Freak with a capitol F. _Freak._

_**Rocker Tripp, District 8 Tribute**_

Allie ran her thumb anxiously over the locket. I've never quite asked what was in it, but the question has crossed my mind several times. Her light brown hair was straighter than usual, done in a simple half up, half down style. She hadn't quiet gotten over her Five. Allie did pretty well during normal training. The pressure must have gotten to her. Can't blame her. How would you react if a bunch of power crazed, blood-thirsty, psychotic Capitol warheads threw you into an unknown arena with a small chance you'll live, for no apparent reason. That's the Hunger Games in a nutshell for you.

As the eerie girl from Seven sat, I stood, cracking my fingers. Interviews were pretty basic, as long as you made yourself stand out. In a good way. Caesar nodded towards me, and I gave a formal nod back.

The interview, to say the least, was sort of dull. I couldn't really live it up without accidentally slipping an insult as the Capitol. And why would I share much of my life with these people? For all I know, they'll twist it around and make it bite me in the butt later.

"You're a big kid," Caesar said, eyeing me closely. "You look like you could hold yourself in a fight. What's your exact plans? Fight or flight?" I paused. I'm pretty sure that, in these Games, everything is going to be pretty open. No secrets. Everything will be in the open, for all tributes to see. But I chose my words carefully.

"Well, Caesar, words once said by a smart man; 'I am not only a pacifist but a militant pacifist. I am willing to fight for peace. Nothing will end war unless the people themselves refuse to go to war.' Although, that last sentence may not be fully true." The quote did run deeper than the actual question. I wanted people to listen to what I had to say.

The buzzer rang soon after. I stiffly nodded to the interviewer again, and walked off. My eyes wandered up to the balcony where the Gamemakers watched. Creased frowns glared at me, their purple robes hiding their hands which gripped onto the rail in an angry gesture. Although, one on the end nodded in approval, a smile hidden just beyond the barrier created by her official title. A young face, with a Ten looking facial structure. Her accent never seemed as heavy (and if not, the voice over done to sound even sillier) as the norm.

Head Gamemaker Fulton. She's odd, to say the least.

**_Kyla Sprit, District 9 Tribute_**

I'm an easy going person. Shy, and a little bumbling at times. But spend several days in the same vaccinity as Quint and you'll want to kill him too. He won't...stop talking. As I overheard the mentor from Four saying, "He's like a shark, in some respects. Most likely, if he stops talking, he'll end up drowing." I've tried to put in the nicest way possible but he's just so immature. The complete opposite of myself. He's used to being the best, and knowing people were lower than him, that he was superior. That he is "really supposed to be in your grade, but I was able to surpass the 12's. Maybe if you pick up the pace, you can reach my level." You remember that when he has repeated it _five_ times.

"Looks like most of my predictions were right," the boy said now. "Now all I have to do is work out the remainder of the team." His big brown eyes stared, non-blinking, with its long eyelashes as he watched Allie. Quint still hadn't made any offical alliances. Some were still debating, while others just down right said no.

Eventually (though, it was only three minutes), the timer buzzed and Allie nearly stumbled off the stage. My partner hopped up, dusting himself off of invisble dirt, and zoomed onto the stage. I hate to admit it but Quiten looked sort of...cute. His ears stuck out of his head slightly, and his face was cute in this little boy sort of way. He played up the angle well, and I imagined him as a puppy, wagging his tail, as he spoke to Caesar.

But it didn't matter. This was the Hunger Games. I may not know about tomorrow, or the next day, or even if I'll see the next day. You can have all the sponsors you can possibly get. No matter what, you still need to fight. Maybe even...kill. Quint can figure out any one, but any one can change in the Games.

My time came and went, and I knew I went by unnoticed. Is that bad? Because, if the Capitol doesn't know who you are, why would the other tributes bother either?

**_Drale Shetler, District 10 Tribute_**

My thumb couldn't help but run along the scar on my nose, down my cheek, as I scratched it. It has its own story, and during my own interview, I chose not to share it, simply because of the reason I had spoken out.

See, at the age of seventeen, I have seen a lot in my life. I've witnessed death, actually witnessed it. We're the cattle district, and slaughtering animals is just part of the description. But you have to work hard, and always stay focused. The bulls can be real fighters, and you have never seen a Momma cow fight like that. I remember watching the life fade from a young mans eyes within the first week on the ranch when I was thirteen. A stray cow had broken free, veering off towards a coral holding the calves. The guy had foolishly stepped right in front of her.

Even before that, I watched a man being beaten for stealing, when I was eleven. I actually knew him, not well, but well enough to know he had a young family, still in the midst of growing, and he and his wife had difficulty making ends meet. He was accused of stealing a _bottle_ of milk.

I did what any brave eleven year old would do; stepped forward and called for them to stop. It was bluntly wrong, and they only went on what some Peacekeeper (who still is a bit of a drunk) said. And what happens next?

_"Shut up, boy!" Snap!_

A flash of a whip and a sting of white hot pain later, I backed off, nursing my face.

"Drale?" I blinked, coming back to the present.

My buzzer rang. I stood.

And as Tanya walked on, practically everyone's ears perked up and eyes lit up. I pressume that, even on a Capitol level, she was a strange sight. I knew that all the tributes wanted to know her story. Even Quincy, or Quinten, the boy from Nine, who has a talking problem it seems, hadn't been able to figure her out.

I wonder how'd everybody would react if they even knew about her brother. Theo has come to be somewhat of a friend to me in the past few days.

Tanya took her seat, hunched over, obviously uncomfortable. Caesar watched her curiously before starting up everything.

"So, Ms. Ride, you are quite the spectacle, it seems."

The girl poked a strand of hair behind her pointy ear, making the crowd lean in even more to view her. I felt slightly disgusted by it all. She was viewed as some carnival freak show.

"I-I g-guess. I don't quite blend very we-ell," she said softly, running her fingers through her dark hair. Tanya chewed her lip, and I winced slightly, thinking of how sharp her teeth were. "I'm used to it all."

"If you don't mind sharing, how did you come to have this appearance?" A long stretch of silence came in. It seemed like everyone, even those watching from various places around Panem, leaned forward, like children listening to their Father tell a story.

"Um, I don't know, it's not that bright," she stated in a low voice, casting her eyes down. The audience sighed, and started up a steady chant. _Tell us, Tell us, Tell us._ This wasn't fair. But nothing was fair in the Games.

"Are you sure?" Caesar asked. There was something in his tone that I guess made the girl ease up.

She blinked once, then finally raised her head up. "My father is in jail, and my mother killed herself." That's a way to get people's attention. "I had been eight at the time. Pa had this crazed plan to get the cattle to bulk up. Like steroids, but different, I pressume. Ma, she loved the guy, but had been pleading for him to stop, that he had know idea how it would react with the animals.

"One evening, I remember him waking me and my brother up, saying he finally had it. We were pulled in from our rooms. I was still rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Ma and him shouted for awhile, and we just sat there and watched. Theo, my brother, grabbed my hand, and told me to go back to bed. I stood, but Pa just whipped around and shoved me back down. That's when Ma really lost it. 'Your drugs never work!' she shouted. 'If you test them on the cattle, you could get us beaten, even Avoxed.'"

"Pa just gave her this big smile. I'll never forget it. 'Then we can just test it on other subjects.' He spun around again, pulling a needle from his pocket. A purple liquid swashed through it. He brought it down, onto my forearm. I, of course, screamed. Theo pulled it out, yelling at Papa. He tried to fight him off, but Pa was crazed now, and stabbed the needle again into Theo this time. The liquid emptied out, with most left in it.

"Ma had gotten some Peacekeepers, who pulled Pa out. He went directly to District Ten jail. Theo, meanwhile, had completely spazzed out on the ground. They took him away too, but not to the jail. I thought he was dead."

There was silence. "What do you mean by thought?" The question hadn't even come from Caesar, but from a nearby cameraman.

"He's an Avox, on my own floor of the Training Center. For protecting his sister, and taking most of the liquid. I only had a bit injected and look at me. Just imagine him with it all."

Caesar patter her knee. "Well, through all this, at least you were able to reconnect with him." Okay, that was just not fair.

Tanya ducked her head down again, regaining her stony silence. Her buzzer rang.

As she sat next to me, she held her head high, as if to dare the Capitol to question her. In a way, she reminded me of Knix. Putting up such a brave front, just to hide the pain, and still so young.

Then again, she reminds me of myself.

**_Robyn Achene_**

Well, that's the end of one mystery. Yay, that's something to check off on my clipboard. Yet, there must be more to tell. It's like, there's an epilouge to her story, it just hasn't been written quite yet.

So wait, let's get this straight; Me and Jayden are after this girl who just dropped some dramatic bomb, and before the kid of Katniss Everdeen. Huh, well, we're pretty much screwed on the "getting sponsors" portion of the Games. Let's just hope I can get by the first day now.

Jayden, though, did his "nice guy" angle pretty well. A freckly kid, as light as a feather (strange, they manage to reap practically the only two white kids in the entire district). We never did interact too much. The allies, I will admit, they help, but I don't see myself walking up to a person and saying, "Hey, let's team up. Please don't slit my throat when I sleep or run off when I need to take a whiz."

See my point? It's best just to hide out and kill from afar. It's how man was able to become the dominate species in the first place, right?

My interview came up quickly. As I expected, I didn't do that well. Every comment came out with some snarkiness to it.

"You've got some spunk in you, I see," Caesar stated. I couldn't help but snort with laughter.

"You probably can't see that I'm about to pee myself. Though, that would be bad if you did." That suprisingly earned me some laughs.

"You know, you're very...nonchalant. What is running through your mind right now?"

Good question. I decided to edit out "Why am I talking to this creepy dude who spends way too much time around children for a normal adult?" and ended up saying, "Inside, I'm freaking out right now. I'm not used to bad stuff happening. My schedule is set from sun-up, sun-down.

"I don't like to admit sometimes, but I'm scared. I'm scared of change." A solid ten seconds passed before my buzzer rang.

I wanted to grab a microphone and say in a dramatic voice, "Ladies, gentlemen, and whatever you may be, the moment you've all been waiting for..."

_**Teagan Aniston, District 12 Tribute**_

Kellen's onto something big. The day he showed me the slips of paper, all with my name on them (and I knew it was mine, since you would have to go pretty far by dropping drops of blood on paper). So, it seems like some of us, if not, _all_ of us, had been reaped on purpose. Was that the true Quarter Quell? There are pieces missing.

Conveniently, Kellen's mich stopped working right as he went on stage. Caesar went on like nothing was wrong, and towards the end, Kellen stood up on his chair, swatting down a microphone hanging over his head by camera crew. A long squeal sent my head reeling.

Kellen's voice echoed out over the Capitol. "My mother and father left a blazing trail wherever they went, and don't think for a moment I'll let that flame go out." He hopped down, sinking back into his chair, the same spot where his parents sat years before, where his father confessed his love for his mother, moved a home nation with his words, and started that spark that made their legend stone. More like gathered the coal for the spark, but that's where it all started.

I had to make my own legend on that stage. And it may even get me killed.

**_Kellen Mellark, District 12 Tribute_**

I took my seat, refusing to take notice of the eyes watching me. I knew for a fact why my microphone didn't work. I mean, does it seem wise to give a voice to the offspring of the two most notorious rebels in all of Panem? Exactly.

Teagan gently walked up to the stage, her heels barely making a sound. She's a sweet girl, but barely says a word. I think the mentor honestly scares her, but she's still nice. Says a lot more to him then me.

She talked lightly, her pigtails done in a fancy Capitol style that wasn't all that bad. She tugged at them occasionally, as if undecided on something.

Of course, I popped up in their conversation. "What's it like having Kellen Mellark of all people as a district partner."

Teagan shrugged. "It can be overwhelming, admittedly, but he's a nice enough person."

"Who's he like? His Mom or his Dad?" Caesar joked, nudging her arm. I knew he was getting at any secret romance or undying love from when we were like five. Sorry, Dad.

"Mom, most definitely," she said without a second thought. Yeah, that's spot on. Teagan paused then said something that made my ears perk up.

"I have a secret to share, Caesar."

The crowd _ooo_-ed, leaning in to listen. Flickerman clapped excitedly. "Well, share with Uncle C. Come on." He smiled broadly.

Teagan bit her lip, a conflict of emotions darting across her face. Finally, she just spat out the words.

"The reapings were fixed."

I swear you could hear a pin drop all the day in District 12. Everyone stood, sat, stunned by her words. Even Teagan looked flabbergasted at what she just said. Her attention turned to the tributes. "I'm not sure, but all of you are here because the Capitol wants you here. They want us gone." Her voice hushed down, joking up.

The girl stood. I glanced across at other kids. Surprisingly, some exchanged stunned, but knowing looks. I took careful notice in those from 8, and obviously the boy from Three.

Teagan booked it from the stage, down the steps. An anxious looking Gamemaker Fulton stepped up.

"This concludes the interviews. And one last thing, to our tributes; There will be some familiar faces in the arena. Some you wouldn't expect. Sleep tight and may the odds be ever in your favor."

We were all but thrown through the doors of the elevators, back in the Training Center. But one thing flashed in my mind; "familiar faces in the arena."

Finn, Cleo, Rose, all my other friends. They could die because of me.

This officially sucks.

**Whoo! I'm pumped! Okay, I'll have one more "Pre-Games" Chapters, then arena time! Since I have some time before I hot the hay, it's just have some fun time. Like a Quiz, but not a questionaire.**

**Review who you think (without looking back) said the following lines.**

**1**."Now, excuse me, but I have some cookies to eat."

**2**."Not as good as Mom's," I laughed softly under my breath.

**3**."_What are you, my wife?" _I mimicked

**4**."_Hush, little baby, don't say a word. Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don't sing, Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring…."_

**5**."I may be in the Capitol but I refuse to act like you people."

**6**."Uh…um, I-I'm sorry."

**7. **Nobody would believe I talked like this. I don't usually talk at all.

**8**."Ready to die, freak."

**9**.One day, she'll know the truth. But not today.

**10**. The world isn't that scary…well, it is. A lot.

**11**."_Raindrops keep falling on my head," _I sang, giving him a small smile.

**12**."Can't change that now."

**I believe half of these are boys, the other girls. I'll give the answers in the next chapter. May the odds be ever in your favor.**


	21. Just A Kid

**Let's just get to it. I'll rant later.**

_**Westria Vise, District 1 Tribute**_

"The moment we get to our floor, run to my room." Confused, I swung my head around towards Carson. He stared up at the elevator, watching the nubers go from 12 down to 1, dinging as it landed on the main floor symbol.

"Huh?"

"You heard me. My room is closer to the elevator than yours. And I don't want my ally number to shrink. And besides Rimmer, you're the only one I somewhat trust." Finally I caught on to what he meant; Trenton. He's going to freaking murder me.

We ascended up, which didn't take long. Poised on my toes, the moment the door opened, I dived out. Before I can even turn a corner, a fist made contact with my face. A flare of pain sparked through my nose, and a sickening crack made me stumble back.

"Hate me, huh?" My vision spun from the impact, and it looked like there were three angry Trenton's standing over me rather than one. The metallic tatse of blood flooded my lips, and I realized my nose was gushing.

"I help bring you into this world. I raise you, train you, even after your goddamn mother leaves. And this is how you repay me? By pretty much spoiling your chances at getting sponsors? By looking like a fool?" I felt a heavy kick to my stomach. I couldn't breath.

Another voice cut in. Blunt and plain, but something a little added to it. "I do believe that is enough."

I blinked, taking in the sight. Carson had a firm hand on Trenton's shoulder, pulling him away.

"Get the hell off me!" Trenton made a jab at Carson. My jaw dropped as the boy ducked, sweeping Trenton's feet out from underneath him. He planted a foot onto his chest.

"Now, I would suggest letting Westy get cleaned up and you to sit down and eat some dinner." With that, he stepped over the man, walking off to his room. My stylists helped me up, one of them leading me off to the medic.

_**Teagan Aniston, District 12 Tribute**_

"That was quite the statement you made." I looked up from my dinner towards Henri, our mentor. He had the classic Seam look, which isn't as common as it used to be.

"Yeah, I guess," I murmured. I'm going to die now. Kellen sifted around the food on his plate, not really eating. The stylists chattered with our escort Effo (Kellen's nickname has really stuck). Henri pushed away the plate.

"Get to bed, you two," he said, sounding a lot older than seventeen. "You're obviously not eating, so why bother sitting around?" We blinked at him several times, then stood, finding refuge in our rooms.

The pajamas in the drawers fit me nicely, and they were made of a satin sort of material. I went through the routine that I had grown accustomed to over the past few days; change, wash my face, brush my teeth, then lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. It was during the last step that my door opened.

Kellen closed the door behind him, hand covering his eyes. "You're dressed, right?"

I tried to laugh, but it came out sounding forced. "Yeah, you can open your eyes." Kellen dropped his hand, puffing out a tired breath of air. I sat up, twisting around to have my feet on the fluffy carpet and patted the spot next to me. He plopped down. We just sat there quietly, not really looking at each other.

"Why do you think they want you dead?" he asked. I nudged back a fly away strand of hair, tucking it behind my ear.

"I wouldn't know. I did have an aunt who was reaped for the Hunger Games a while ago. Obviously, I never got to meet her. My father already despised the Games, but after his sister died in them, he hated them more."

"Do you have other aunts and uncles?" Kellen asked.

I sighed, listening to the drunken laughter of Effo. "Yeah, my Dad had an older brother. And my Mom has two sisters." The boy stared down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them several times.

"I've never met my aunt either. Or my uncles." Instantly, I wanted to hit myself. I'm getting all sad about my Aunt Winnie, when he barely has any family at all. Both his uncles, as well as his grandparents, on his dad's side, were killed in the bombings of District 12. His Aunt Primrose...well, it's a sad story to tell, nothing any one enjoys sharing. Is it strange to think she was the same age as us when she...you know...?

He didn't even have his parents around.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Kellen shook his head. "Don't be." Be sat there in silence, letting our minds wander off.

"Best be going to bed," he finally said. "Long day ahead of us." Kellen stood, stretching out his stiff muscles. Before stepping out of the room, he added over his shoulder, "Good luck tomorrow."

"May the odds be ever in your favor."

**_Arianne Misham, District 6 Tribute_**

Something is off with Dorian. Which is strange to say, coming from me of all people.

But ever since the end of the interviews, he's avoided everyone, not saying a word. As we ate our dinner, he mumbled various things, which only made half sense to me.

"Familiar faces...he would have told me...was it really fixed? That explains that..."

Dorian seems really preoccupied. But aren't we all? I just spear the potato with my fork, chewing it thoughtfully.

**_Drale Shetler, District 10 Tribute_**

I jerked back, fully awake, as I saw the shadow towards the door. The figure flinched around upon hearing me awake. Fumbling for the light switch, I saw Theo standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, a bundle of what I guess was my interview clothes.

"Oh," I half-yawned. "Sorry. I should have picked those up." Theo shrugged with his large shoulders. Dropping a sock, he bent to pick it up. I couldn't help but gaze at his strange features.

His eyes were a deeper purple than Tanya's, his ears even more sharply pointed. I assume his row of teeth had been all pointed at one point, but were now filed down. Avox's with sharp teeth wouldn't be the nicest companions, would they? Unlike his sister, he had a misshapen figure, and a forehead that stuck out a bit.

Standing up straight, he made his way back to the door.

"I promise, if she dies, it won't be because of me." Theo paused at the door. Turning around he, using a free hand, pressed his middle three fingers of his left hand to his lips.

Then, he simply turned back around, leaving the room.

**_Kaeden Whitrow, District 5 Tribute_**

I swear, the moment I get the chance, I'm blowing up the Capitol.

They were planning to kill Milo. Just some fourteen year old kid who never did anything wrong. He wasn't a rebel, wasn't some hired assassin.

Just a fourteen year old kid, like Kellen Mellark and his district partner. Like so many other kids in the Games. So many put here on purpose.

_**Reeda "Ree" Kails, District 7 Tribute**_

To be thoroughly honest, I'm not all that surprised.

Sometimes when you know too much, you, I suppose, must be disposed of. Of course, for most people, disappearing in the midst of the night will shoot up some alarm. There would be to much suspicion. Being reaped for the Hunger Games, on the other hand, is a very subtle way. It is something that has some reason behind it, and you wouldn't quite question it. Just bad luck, is all.

Come gather around, dear reader, as these may be my final words. These are simply my inner thoughts as the helicopter flies off to my awaited arena. Although, thinking is hard with all this unnecessary noise.

See, I had once been walking through the woods, on my own on this particular day. My curiosity at its peek, I wandered off my usual trail. Fresh fall leaves crinkled below my feet and I whistled my tune brightly. Various creatures of the night passed by, taking little notice in me. I usually keep away, and they have accepted my presence.

It feels like we're decending now. A man, his gruff beard sticking from his face like whiskers, takes my arm. He looks at me quizzically as he jabs a needle sort of device into my arm, the tracker officially placed.

In the low light of the moon, may I continue, I detected the disturbing sight of blood. By the warmth of it, it was fresh. I followed it, being led to the base of an oak. Most likely, a squirrel or other small creature had been attacked, and ran off to pressumably die. My hands ran over it, but something about the tree felt off. Running my hand further over, I found a slight opening, possibly a centimeter wide.

I gave the tree a shove. An echoy, hollow sound made my suspicions strengthen. Several seconds later, I pounded again. The wood was quite flimsy and even I had the ability to crack it open. I stumbled in, my eyes blinking several times as they adjusted to the sudden low light.

Instantly, a dash board of letters and numbers became clear in my vision, various computers casting a faint glow about the room. Screens showed empty streets, or people sleeping in their beds. I realized all of this was hidden in a tree, which connected to a larger cave, the branches crawling up the side. No one sat in any of the seats, but I had a feeling this was not normal.

Was the Capitol spying on individuals in the district? And if so, why? Were they rebels, these people? Did all the districts have secret headquarters like this? So many questions, yet so few answers.

I'm now walking down the tunnels, to my final destiniation before the Games. The heavy boots they gave us are quite durable, but the wool coat itched and scratched at my arms. Underneath that is a plain T-shirt with a thin pair of jeans, and underneath that are simple cotton undergarments. My hair tied back, I stepped onto the platform.

In the computer room, muffled yelling made me hesitate. I took refuge in the corner, shadows hiding me from view. From a panel in the wall slipped a man.

"Fine, but I better be payed over time!" he grumbled angrily, a distinct Capitol accent setting me on edge. Why would someone like him be here? He took a seat, swinging around to look at the crumpled door. "And I swear, this damn wind."

The Capitol man stood again, bending to lift up the broken wood. If he shut it out, I don't think I would have any chance of making it back out unnoticed. As he fiddled with the hinges, I emerged from the shadows, smashing various keys on the dashboard before ducking down under the devices. The large man jerked around as a siren started ringing out, a bright red light spiraling.

I managed to crawl all the way to the opening. And finally, I made my escape, back into the night.

The plate starts to rise up. Here we go.

**Yes, okay, next chapter, official Games. I honestly couldn't think of much more so it's a bit shorter chapter than normal. I won't let you down next chapter. Drum roll please...**

**And answers to last chapter. Some, were pretty hard, I will admit, and a bit misleading.**

**1.** Rimmer (Reaping chapter, after his prank backfires slightly)

**2**. Robyn

**3**. Quinten (Reaping chapter, mimicking his friend Tom. Though, I do see how you could have thought it was Rimmer)

**4**. Kyla

**5**. Drale (Refusing the towel from the Avox/Theo. I'm not sure where Quint came from for this line. A lot guessed that)

**6**. Tanya

**7**. Carson (Reaping Chapter, talking to his siblings)

**8**. Trey

**9**. Allie (Reaping Chapter, talking to her sister)

**10**. Arianne

**11**. Dia (Reaping Chapter, with her friend, Tristan)

**12. **Filler (Reaping Chapter, a remark made on how his friend, a previous winner, would have liked to be the mentor of the year)

**Let's roll.**


	22. Teenage Wasteland

**I wrote this while watching a short marathon of Alphas. Any one ever heard of it? Hardcore show.**

_**Rimmer Kamerman, District 2 Tribute**_

Our plans had been worked out and passed on during lunch and other various routes of communications. I still wondered if Cadette was planning to kill me the moment she gets her hand on a knife or other lethal item.

My part had included taking control of the Cornucopia, and wiping out whoever got in the way. This included Brooke and Westy, while the other four (Filler, Cadette, Asshat, and Carson) just went after everyone else.

The pod ascended up, and I braced myself for the arena to come. My first instincts were to expect someplace cold, from the coat and jeans. For once, I couldn't think of a single witty comment. That's how much I wanted to pee my pants.

A burst of light blinded me momentarily. I shielded my eyes, squinting as the countdown of our first sixty seconds chimed off. All around me was sand. A wasteland of a desert.

And that's it.

No cornucopia. No items. Not even any tributes.

Just sand, and me.

_**Jayden Crush, District 11 Tribute**_

Upon seeing the arena, I felt a pang in the pit of my stomach. Not for the lack of tributes, or the cornucopia, but for the trees.

There were no trees. Just a desert.

The sun beat down the back of my neck, and I squinted across the land to see if it did have any end. Being a tree climber, I'm used to seeing tiny things, from far away. But truly, all I saw was sand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may the 100th Hunger Games begin." The voice seemed to come from nowhere, yet everywhere. I just stood there. Thinking of my options. Should I go ahead? Go behind me? I had no direction.

Then I realized the hum.

It rang out low, and barely a whisper, but it was apparent. Just enough to make you clench down on your teeth and demand for it to stop. But of course it doesn't.

A solid thirty seconds passed before a a different voice whistled through my ears.

"Confused, I pressume," said the chipper voice of Gamemaker Fulton. "Follow the song of the singing stones, just where the sun rises. Or simply come back the way you came. Those are where your treasures are after all." She laughed for a moment. "And I would do it soon, before the others get there. You don't want those familiar faces hurt." With that comment, I froze up. The sky lit up, and an image spread across it, translucent through the sunlight. Twenty four stones circled around the Cornucopia. At the bottom of each one, a person was tied to it, a chain clamped around their ankle, attached to the stone. My stomach knotted up for the second time in the past few minutes.

The image turned around, and I saw a defenseless little May, shivering, her arms wrapped around her.

"May the odds be ever in your favor."

I remained still. Follow the singing stones. Save my sister, head west, and follow the singing stones.

**_Nicholas Calloway, District 3 Tribute_**

Claudia's tear stained face wouldn't be wiped from my mind. I can't forget anything. And that face will be haunting me, every night until I find her.

Instinctively, I stepped forward, starting off on the journey to find her. But I paused.

_Or simply come back the way you came. Those are where your treasures are after all._

"Come back the way you came," I murmured under my breath. Most likely, the cameras was panning around to get the views of each tribute. My mind whirred, taking this in.

Is this supposed to be deeper than what it is? Like the way we came in. Dying? No, that's too deep. I plopped down onto the metal plate. The way I came...a train, helicopter? Really, all I had was this stupid plate.

Wait, that's it.

I skittered off onto the sand, kneeling down beside it. The touch of the plate stung slightly, already heating up from the sun. Looking very closely, I saw what looked to be a very slight lid. Heaving, I crammed my fingers in the slight gap, using what muscle I had to lift it. I only moved it an inch before I dropped it again. Sweat already collected on my forehead, and I slipped off the wool coat.

Examining it even closer, I trailed my hands over the top. Various circles started from the outside, moving to the center. Experimentally, I tried to twist them around. With a start, I realized they could be turned. I tried various combinations, turning all them (which didn't work), then twisting them back the other way. I tried every other one, then the others. Nothing happened.

Claudia's face appeared in my thoughts again. "Dang it!" I shouted, pounding hard on the center in frustration.

Cranking sounds rattled my thoughts. The circle turned, descending down. Well that's a way to do something.

With no other options, I hopped down into it. I landed on various little knives, wires, and bolts scattered about, causing me to stumble. Dirt lined the walls, and dark tunnels spread from left to right, and forward.

A bag was hung on the wall. Violet came to mind, and I took the items, shoving them into the bag. She could create something with this. Not sure what, but best bet was to take them.

My mind calmed slightly, and I realized that the whistling could not be heard from here. Momentarily, my mind made a list of what I had. Backpack, glasses, miscellaneous. Jacket.

A long ago memory came to me. _"Don't get rid off your jacket. You'll need it later."_

So beyond the heat, and muggy air I felt down in the tunnels, I reached back up and took hold of the coat, cramming it into my bag.

Now to go find my sisters.

**_Kaeden Whitrow, District 5 Tribute_**

You know, I found the tunnel on accident. Talk about luck, I guess.

As they made the last few annoucements, I slammed my foot down in anger, punching air. Neda. They have fricken' Neda. It took me a moment to notice the cranking. Looking down, I saw the metal plate descend down. About three feet off the underground floor, it slid into the wall, causing me to plummet. I fell hard on my tail bone, easing up into a sitting position.

My hand nudged against metal, flinching back. But then I took in the full sight of it.

Spears. Three, finely crafted spears, their points sharpened. A long bag with a shoulder sling was hung on the wall, from a shiny metal hook.

Grunting, I stood.

The odds, I guess, were a bit in my favor.

**_Teagan Aniston, District 12 Tribute_**

I breathing became short, and the sun was at its height. Just in the distance, I could see a bundle of trees. I swallowed hard at the sight of how far it was.

But it was there, and my purpose became stronger. Wiping the sweat from my face with my shirt, I continued forward. My arms ached slightly from carrying the coat over my head. Wearing it would only dehydrate me further, and the shade helped the tiniest bit.

Finnegan had been tied to the stone. My Finn, who could possibly die because of me. And I can't even use the excuse that I was unlucky to be reaped.

He was cold and I wondered if he was hungry. The Games are cruel, dragging people into this who aren't even supposed to die. The image, I felt crushed by it. So many little kids, most under ten. Among them was Finnick Mellark.

The whistling of the stones, whatever they may be, grated against my nerves, making me want to turn away, but I couldn't. I had to keep going. The Careers would slaughter any one in their way. Including the Familiar Faces.

So I barreled on, diving deeper into the whistles of the stones.

**_Cadette Flinch, District 2 Tribute_**

I save Jade's ass once, and now she's in here again. And, I really have no idea if she's even eligible to win. But I still have to save her ass.

About halfway through the walk forward, a silver little package floated down in front of me. I instantly ripped it open, hoping to find water. Though, it did not contain this, I was still happy with the item inside.

Taking the beret, I pulled it low over my face.

Now to save my stupid sister. And possibly kill Rimmer.

**_Robyn Achene, District 11 Tribute_**

Does everyone have some little sibling that the Capitol would love to kill? There's probably 10 little kids, if not more, tied to one of those stones. Am I the only one who's the youngest child in a family?

The sun had set by the time I reached the woods. Crawling up a tree deeper into them, and nicely leaved, I made camp for the night. Hidden from sight, I watched the ground floor below me. For the first time in Hunger Games history, everyone made it through the first day alive. I knew tomorrow would be hard though. No on ewants to be back in that desert, and the Capitol must be restless.

Sleep over came the pain my stomach, and my eyes fluttered shut. Dreams of my best friend being torn apart, sliced into bits, bashed against a tree, and other lethal actions woke me up constantly. Finally, with some sleep, I decided to continue on. As I propped myself up into a standing position, poised on the tree, my foot slipped.

I never observed the snow until now.

The white little flecks stuck to my jeans, ice coating the tree.

I tried to catch myself, but my hand brushed against the branches, slipping away. I had no hold onto anything. ANd with that, I free falled, the air breezing through my hair.

**_Drale Shetler, District 10 Tribute_**

Believe it or not, I have never seen snow.

I've heard of it, obviously, but never seen it. The cold, it scared the shit out of me. The grass met my aching feet, and the snow started up not long after it. I gazed at it like a small child, holding my hand out to catch them. The flecks were made of intricate little shapes, and they metled upon landing on my hand.

Pulling my coat tighter, I kept an eye out for other tributes, or any other creature of the sorts. The snow began to crunch under my boots, and I kept my head low. Everyone was still alive. Any one could kill me.

I forced my mind to focus on the task at hand, instead of wandering off to Matt. He could die, because of me. The goof ball who did ballet with my little sister, gone. I had to free him.

Okay, there goes my mind. I stopped where I was, rubbing my hands together for warmth. Then, over the hum of the stones, I heard the snap of a branch. Closely following that came the screech of a girl.

I looked up, and blinked once. A dark figure came down, knocking me over.

The wind knocked out of me. I pushed the body off of me, and bent over, heaving in cold breaths. The figure did so as well.

We sat there for a few moments, staring at each other through the dark.

She finally spoke. "Have you found any weapons? Supplies?"

I shook my head. The girl sighed.

"Are you going to kill me now?" She asked it so calmy, it felt a little creepy. But I've seen a lot of creepy things lately.

"I wasn't planning to."

"Okay, that's good enough for me."

**_Quinten Wilkens, District 9 Tribute_**

The guys are so stupid. I bet none of them even thought to look under them.

My hand ran along the cold blade in my pocket. I've been wandering the tunnels for several hours, and I would guess that the sun would have set by now. Hunger rubbed aginst me, but I pushed the thought aside, continuing on.

Finally, I felt another wall. They end.

Off in the corner, several railings created a ladder up. I grabbed on, pulling myself up.

Reaching the top, I found myselfjust outside the Cornucopia. The whistling of the stones was strong and I tried to cover my ears. It was like someone was playing several jumbled notes at the same time, it never stopping.

Biting down on my lip, I gazed around. Several of the people were asleep, including Ollie. Tip toeing around the others, I crept up to my little brother. Sliding out the knife, I popped it in the lock of the chain. A simple twist, and he was out.

I held onto my brother for a moment, his breathing rattling, his lips slightly blue. His brown eyes looked at me through slits, and he laid his head on my shoulder. Lifting him up, I began to walk away, when a thought occurred to me.

I made it here before almost everyone. There were twenty-two people. The Three's shared a person, so there should be twenty-three. I shook my head. It doesn't matter. But everyone wanted to be here before someone else hurt their loved one.

And that is the perfect bargaining tool.

I gazed around, trying to work everything out. Something else I realized now; each of the Loved Ones had a shirt with a number on the front. From their district.

I searched for those I had considered for allies. The Tens, no, their Loved Ones cannot be controlled so easily. Their was an eight year old girl from Five, but she looked like Dia, not Kaeden, and Dia honestly scared me a bit. So Kaeden has already gotten here. That left Jayden's, what I guessed was, his sister and Kellen's, I assumed, brother.

A ten year old girl, she had the same freckly face. I popped her lock off and she blinked open her eyes. If I took Kellen's brother, he'd probably kill me. Jayden, on the other hand, would just want his sister back.

I held the knife to her neck. "Come with me, and you won't die.'

**_Dorian Happens, District 6 Tribute_**

I had to find Arianne before she reached the stones. Her father, I know she'd be desperate to get to. But she can't.

I never told her teh truth about them; I wasn't exactly sure at the time. But now I'm positive.

Arianne couldn't save him, her "father." He didn't need to be saved.

He wasn't really him.

**First official Games chapter. Hells yeah.**


	23. Delightful Secrets

**Okay, so this story has come a long way. It's my first SYOT, and I'm still learning as I go along.**

**So, I think it would be the time to mention my _new_ SYOT. In a way, it's an SYOM. Check out my profile for further information. I'll be starting it sometimes towards the end of this story, whenever that is. I like the idea because it's outside the box, and I've seen stories sort of like it, but not exactly the same.**

**Keep an eye out for the Mutant Games, coming to a fanfiction near you.**

**_Trey Canter, District 7 Tribute_**

There was nothing in the Cornucopia. Absolutely nothing.

I punched the side of it, grunting at the pain. My knuckles were bloodied, which made me just want to punch something again.

No one was dead. No one. I still had to get through 23 losers to win. I questioned killing one of the people tied to the stones to get some frustration out but pushed the thought aside. For now.

It was morning now, and there were several people missing already from the damn stones. I wondered how many were actually dead.

Not long after I showed up in the Cornucopia, Filler ran in. He went straight for a small, blonde girl, stroking her hair gentley. Pathetic. I strode out, the sun beating down my neck. Daylight carried heavy heat, while night time brought ice and cold.

Filler turned to me, concern in his gaze. "Is there anything in there that can break the lock?"

I pushed back my hair. "Just check it out yourself." He strode up, and gazed around, wide eyed.

"There's no weapons? No supplies?" I rolled my eyes.

"No shit, Sherlock." Filler glared at me momentarily before turning back to the girl. Searching around in the forest, he came back with a large rock. It was while he banged it against the lock that Carson and Cadette sprang in from the woods within seconds of each other. Cadette panted for a few moments, some how having a beret on her head, while Carson knelt by some smoking chick. Wow, I'd never think he'd nail a girl like her.

"Any sign of the others?" Filler asked, the girl whimpering as he snapped the metal clasp.

Cadette walked over to a miniature her, beret not included. "Nope." Mini Cadette waved up to her, acting like her sister just caught her trying to steal her shoes. Cadette scowled.

"Do you mind not sucking face near me?" she hissed towards Carson.

"Ditto," came another voice. I found it to be Westy's. She walked in, hesitantly going to the other person wearing the One shirt. She waved awkwardly, walking over to the Cornucopia. Carson pulled away from his girlfriend, watching the rest of us.

"Damn, was someone already here?" I shook my head.

"I don't think so," I said, leaning against the side of it. The whistling would not stop, and I wanted to kill something more than ever.

"That explains this then." From a bundle I only realized she had now, she pulled a glistening sword. Everyone blinked at it stupidly. A small girl (another one, damn) screeched upon seeing it. A boy, who must be the brother of the chubby kid from 8, shushed her, watching us nervously.

"Where'd you find it?" Filler asked.

Avoiding the gaze of the guy somehow close to her, she explained, "Well, last night, I had thought I saw someone. I snatched for a branch, for some sort of weapon. Pulling it back, something else fell, smacking me in the face." She laughed. "Good thing it was the hilt or I would have been skewered." Damn. So close.

Westy twirled it around in her hand, showing off the tiniest bit. "So, any way, what do we do now? The weapons could be anywhere."

I sighed sitting down. Westy offered the sword around, everyone cutting free their captives. My "friend" had been that one kid PJ, or JP. Still don't know. I didn't nother to cut him free. And next to him...I couldn't help but smile.

"Why hello, Mill," I smiled. The boy glared at me. Reaching in, I tapped his nose lightly. He snapped at me, biting my finger hard. I winced at the pain, jerking backwards. "Loser." Looking down at my finger, I saw a stream of blood stream down. His bite...his teeth were razor sharp. That's definitely not normal.

I wiped the blood off on my jacket. Something was weird with these people.

Westy cleared her throat. "Let's just move. The others will catch up later. We need to start cutting down the numbers."

"What about the people?" Cadette asked, tugging her beret low.

"Use 'em as bait," I put in. "So don't stray too far."

Everyone agreed grudgingly and we started off into the woods.

"Wait, I need to do something," I said. Snatching the sword, I sprinted back to the circle with the stones. A sword felt a little weird in my grip, not like an axe, but I still could weild it.

"Let's see how this works." Mill watched me with wide eyes, and as I brought down the blade, something in them flickered. He couldn't move fast enough.

No cannon fired. I gazed at the blade, and down at the unmoving figure. Definitely not normal.

But the others didn't know that. And I could set them off if I wanted too.

Jogging back, I wiped the sword clean, smirking to myself. This would be delightful.

**_Allie Manson, District 8 Tribute_**

I crawled out from the stone I hid behind. I didn't want to look over at the boy he murdered. The word tasted bitter in my mouth. Murder. He couldn't even defend himself, he had been tied to the stone. And Asshat had been so close to getting me.

Pulling the wire from the bag I found, I worked on the lock keeping Scarlett to the stone. The whistling made me antsy, and paranoid. Just made my teeth sit on edge. Freeing my sister, I inched over to Drew.

"How did this happen? When did they take you?" The boy didn't look much younger than Rocker, and I knew I had to free him. He rubbed his ankle as the lock popped off.

"I'm not allowed to share," he said, his voice crackling.

We all stood, Scarlett wrapping her arms around my leg. I felt warm seep through my pants, and my sister sniffled silently. She looked up at me, the sunlight glistening off her wet cheeks.

"I want to go home," she sobbed. Lifting her up, I stroked her soft hair.

"Listen to me," I whispered. "You need to be quiet. Think of this as a big game of hide and seek. We need to hide, so you have to be quiet. If we win, then we get to go home."

"And if we don't?" I chewed my lip.

"Let's just focus on winning," Drew said softly. He glanced back and forth, walking off into the woods.

**_Tanya Ride, District 10 Tribute_**

I've faced two of my biggest weaknesses/fears, in the past 24 hours; heat, and spiders.

Walking through the desert, for lack of better words, sucked. Living in District 10 all my life, you expect me to have a better tolerance for heat. Well, no, it makes me hate it even more. And the spiders...just, don't get me started.

Finally, I found the forest. I think I had lost some time, trying to open the plate. But I couldn't. It just wouldn't open.

I panted up the way. The hum of the stones, I read about something like it in a book once. See, there are holes throughout them, and when the wind blows, it creates this hallow sound as they blow through the holes.

Stumbling up, leaned back on a tree.

"Ouch!" Instantly, I leapt back. No regular tree says "ouch!" Examining the tree with a more critical eye, I finally saw the figure. Two large eyes blinked open. My jaw dropped.

"Please, don't hurt me," she screeched, ducking down. Her face still seemed to get lost within the tree background, the mud and bark covering her from head to toe. I finally recognized her as the girl from Six, the one who I saved from the dagger.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

The girl shrugged. "I'm alive, if that counts as an answer." She ducked behind the tree, glancing around nervously. "I can't find Dorian. I hope he made it."

I nodded. "How 'bout we stick together until you do?" The girl edged back, planning when to run. My hand shot out, grabbing hold of her wrist.

"If I did want you dead, I wouldn't have caught that dagger." The girl shuttered out a breath.

"Okay. Until Dorian comes."

**_Jayden Crush, District 11 Tribute_**

May's not here. I ran around the perimeter. She wasn't anywhere. Stopping, I slipped to my knees. Her chain was here, but she wasn't attached.

"Where are you?" I murmured.

"A boy took her." Blinking, I looked at the other girl wearing a prominent 11 on her shirt.

Fighting hard for words, I managed out, "Who?"

Her face expressed her concern. "I'm not sure of his name. He threatened her with a knife," my stomach flipped, "and said to come with him. He didn't look much older than 12, and had the kind of face a mother would want to pinch." She smiled at the last line, but it was speckled with bitterness. "I'm Leah, by the way."

I nodded. "Thank you, Leah. Are you a friend of Robyn's?" She nodded back.

Quint. He took my sister. Didn't kill her, but basically kidnapped her.

Something within me snapped. He'll pay. This is now personal.

**_Dorian Happens, District 6 Tribute_**

Where is Arianne? My nerves grinded against each other. I shoved away each branch, searching for the girl. I didn't think about her camoflauging until now, which only relieved me and sent my nerves reeling even more.

Why had I become so obsessed with her? Really, she has been my ally, a loyal companion, since pretty much the beginning. A friend, through and through.

But how does that explain my anxiety? I try to imagine Unse in her place, and it's not exactly the same. There's a different pang to my stomach, thinking of losing her.

I pushed away the negative thoughts. Find her. She won't die. You'll find her. Her and her too big eyes, her shy little smile.

She's not dead. That's all I focused on.

**_Kyla Sprit, District 9 Tribute_**

Bentley finally blinked his eyes open. While sleeping (at least trying too) in a tree last night, my hands had brushed against the straps of what felt like fabric. Tugging it, I found it to be a bag, complete with gloves, a blanket, and some fresh water. I also found a small sling shot, various little pebbles in a drawstring back.

I patted my baby brother's head. He was packed tightly in the bag, the blanket wrapped around him. Unslinging it, I brought the water bottle to his lips. It was warm, but better than nothing. He took as sip, and to my surprise, that was all.

"Come on baby, take another sip," I cooed. He thrust his face away, his nose wrinkling up. Another thing; he wasn't crying.

"Bentley," I whispered. Thinking of a small trick, I pinched his nose shut. He had to drink. After a moment, he spread his mouth wide.

I screamed.

**_Rocker Tripp, District 8 Tribute_**

Drew wasn't attached to the stone. But neither was...Scarlett, was it? My hopes eased up. Did Allie get here?

Suddenly, I heard a scream. With a start, I swung around. No cannon fired, so it could be nothing. My eyes glanced back at the stones, and they veered off to something on the ground.

Oh my God. At first glance, it just looks like a slick of grass, muddy and all.

But you look closer, and you can make out the features of what resembles a person. A nervous looking kid was locked to the stone next to him. Guess Asshat doesn't give a damn about him.

I looked back at the oozing thing on the ground. These people...they're not human. They're not actually them.

Momentarily, I felt relief. Drew wasn't actually here. But where was the fake him?

Oh no. Allie.

Instantly, I turned, booking it out of there. I skidded to a stop as I saw a small girl fighting off some demon. Grabbing a large rock from the ground, I threw it hard, not sure who it will hit. The creature howled, hate filled eyes glaring hard at me.

The small figure pounced on me then. Pain shot up my nose, sharp blades cutting deep into them. I punched it twice before it fell down to the ground.

A bloody Kyla breathed heavily, gazing at me, slingshot in hand. The girl is quite the sharp shooter. Picking up the small body, it oozed through my hands. A sturdy pebble was lodged into the back of the head. I nudged the figure to the side.

"Thanks," we said awkwardly in unison. Kyla smiled shyly at me.

"No really. He was going to kill me." Her voice quaked, and I could see this stunned her. Her nerves were definitely rattled. "You're with Allie, right?" I nodded, wiping the blood from my nose.

"Can I join you guys?" Her tone creaked uneasily, her gaze not totally trusting.

I thought for a moment. "Uh, sure."

**_Reeda "Ree" Kails, District 7 Tribute_**

The stones didn't bother me. They were actually slightly comforting to me. I pulled the make-shift wooden knife I had from my pocket. I pulled back, practicing the movement of my arm. I took careful aim of the girl. Her brown pigtails dangled around her face, blowing in the breeze of the arena. She walked carefully by the water, tracing the surface carefully. It would be as easy as taking down a baby deer.

Suddenly, an arrow whistled by, landing hard in the ground next to the girl. She jumped to her feet, looking around frantically.

I looked up from where I was. From somewhere in the trees, I saw a flash of blonde hair. I looked back at the girl but she wasnt there.

The kill was gone.

**Okay, people are dying next chapter. So please, don't get mad at me**


	24. That Rabbit Should Be Scared

**I hate block parties. I've already sustained an injury during preparation, and it's only morning.**

_**Drale Shetler, District 10 Tribute**_

Somehow, I now have an ally. Robyn, from District 11. I usually sat next to her in line ups or various other lines, but never really spoke to her.

She's extremely tall and skinny, quite gangly. Kind of helps when climbing trees. Her eyes are very clear, and look like robin's eggs, blue with speckles of grey. I couldn't help but think statement, innvolving her name.

During that night she fell on me, we struck up a conversation, and somehow agreed to stay together for awhile. Not the most open girl, but I was pretty much the same way.

It was mid-morning of day two when we found the water source. We were quite lost, the stones just melding together in sound and just becoming a constant buzz. We were able to eat some of the plants Robyn picked out, but I worried for my friend, still tied to the stone, if still alive.

I bent to take a sip when Robyn laid a hand on my shoulder. "Is it safe?" This made me withdraw, staring at the clear surface.

"Do you know how to check?" I asked, trailing a hand across the surface. My throat felt sore.

"We can wait to see if a magical unicorn takes a sip. Unicorns know all, right?" I rolled my eyes. This girl and her damn sarcasm...

"Wait, that's not a bad idea." Robyn raised an eyebrow at me, thinking I've lost a few screws. "No really. If we get, I don't know, a squirrel to drink it, if it's still alive, then we know it's good. If not, we'll just have to figure something out."

Several minutes later, I had managed to wrestle a bunny up (that's what I've got to show for 4 years of working with cattle). Robyn and I calmed it long enough to have a strong grip and dunk it in the small river. (Robyn mentioned that a waterfall could be not too far off from here).

I still had a grip on it when a cannon fired. Startled, my grasp on the animal weakened, and it wiggled free, darting off down the path.

"Catch it!" Robyn yelled, but while in mid-hop, the rabbit froze, landing to the ground with a thud. I licked my dry lips, worring about how I wasn't sweating as much. For a moment, the creature laid there, but then spazzed out, twitching and kicking randomly. Finally, it became still.

"Okay," Robyn stated. "Don't drink the water." Another cannon fired.

Wait. A cannon fired. Someone's dead.

**_Violet Calloway, District 3 Tribute_**

Klaus chewed his lip anxiously. "Will it work?"

"It should." By Klaus' expression, I knew he wasn't convinced. Neither was I.

The invention was much like one I had made back home. We used it to steal some meat from the butcher, and I had come out of it with clean little scra on my arm. Unlike the original, this one had an extra ingredient, making it more deadly.

The voices were getting louder. Grabbing my siblings' hands, I watched as Klaus tossed it up.

"I hope this works," Claudia whispered anxiously. Oh my god...

Claudia is mute.

**_Carson Drox, District 1 Tribute_**

I plucked the purple ribbon from the branch, examining it closely. She's close by.

I rubbed the silk material between my fingers. Chastity peered at it closely.

"What is it?" I looked up at her, her blue eyes watching me carefully.

"A ribbon," I stated. "It's another tribute's token, if I'm not mistaken." Cadette snatched it from my grip.

"Yeah, I remember. The dorky inventor girl from District 3."

Filler crouched by the bush. "Her tracks look fresh." He trailed his hand over the light indentation in the ground. "And it seems she's joined up with her brother. Possibly a third person, maybe a small child."

Lesley, his little sister, gazed at the ribbon with the signature District 4 eyes. "What are we going to do to them?"

Trey pounced in, shagging her blonde head up. The girl obviously did not enjoy this. "Chop them up into little pieces and feed them to sharks! Or maybe Cadette..."

Lesley squealed, grabbing onto her brother's leg. Both him and Cadette scowled at the large boy, who just shrugged.

"Yeah, whatever, can we just go," Westy stated. Brooke, who had joined us with a dusty looking Rimmer an hour ago, rolled her eyes. We had all just been able to hold back Cadette from strangling Rimmer upon seeing him.

"Uh, sure," Filler said, turning to follow the tracks. Trey and Brooke sort of hung back, whispering between each other. I held some interest to find out what they were saying but Chastity just tugged my hand along. Since when was she so demanding? Huh.

Abruptly, Rimmer called out. "Duck!" I glanced up momentarily, and saw a cylinder container soar through the air, down upon us. It did no damage, but hitting the ground, a black vapor sprung out. I tripped backwards, landing hard on Madders (it was easier to call him Madders, then refer to the other Trey as Asshat. He's Westy's "Loved One" if you don't remember).

It burned my eyes and throat, causing me to skitter back along the ground, gagging.

Then suddenly, all hell broke loose.

Through the vapor, I saw the small blonde head of Lesley pop up. But when she turned, it didn't have her face. A demonic imp-like creature, with blazing red eyes growled at me. I rolled backwards, but felt sharp teeth dig deep into my forearm. With a shout of alarm, I found my beautiful Chastity locked onto my arm. This wasn't her. At least, I hope it wasn't.

Scooping up a sharp stick, I jabbed it hard into the fiend's eye. She hissed, letting go. She lept at me again, screeching with rage, when suddenly, all that reached me was her head.

Green gack oozed from the stump, my empty stomach begging to puke something up. Westy brought the sword around again, slicing the former Lesley in half. Thinking fast, I spun around, stomping hard on Madders. He hissed, coughing out more of the vile green blood.

I sank to my knees as Westy thrust the sword into her fake friend's chest. "I'm sorry," she murmured to it.

I examined my surroundings. It seems Trey had ran off, along with Brooke. Did they know something? Cadette, a light cut dripping bood down her face, nudged Rimmer. He rattled in breaths, like a fish out of water. Whatever had been in the cylinder, Rimmer had gotten the biggest dose of it. Filler gazed over what had been his sister, trying to decide what it really was.

Out of nowhere, the boy we had been tracking fell from the tree, another demonic girl biting into his neck. Westy drove her sword down, spearing both the girl and him.

The first cannon of the Games fired.

A strangled cry from the trees made my heart clench up the tiniest bit. I pretended to not have heard it. The shake of leaves drifted off, and I knew she had fled, now on her own.

Eventually, Rimmer's breathing stopped. His cannon fired.

We all sat there, the four of us still alive, and together. Cadette looked stunned, reaching out and stroking Rimmer's hair, only to flinch back in disgust. Until the very end, he had been an ally. He didn't run and leave us behind when he saw the cylinder. He pointed it out.

And it most possibly cost him his life.

Filler stood. "Do you think the other two knew?"

Westy shook her head in a gesture of disbelief. "They probably did. Why else would they have left their 'friends' behind on the chains?"

"I thought they were just being asses, and they just had no friends," Cadette put in, pulling back on her beret. "Didn't think people like them had friends." We all grunted in agreement.

"So what do we do now?" I ased plainly. My hand rubbed over the charm bracelet on my wrist, the token given to me the the _real _Chastity.

Filler sighed. "Regroup, and keep on going."

Gathering back together the few items we had, I watched Westy kneel by the cylinder, sliding a finger along the side. She daintily sniffed it once, her nose wrinkling back.

One word, and I knew the ingredient that had killed our ally, and most possibly set off the mutts. I had to admit, the girl was clever for figuring out how to make it spray out like that.

Westy spoke in a low voice. "Nightlock."

**_Dia Lockhart, District 5 Tribute_**

Tristan squinted up at the overcast. "Rain," he stated. "Great."

"No," I mumbled. "This could actually be good..." I had been able to scrounge up some weeds, weaving them together to make an awful looking basket. Taking off my coat, I wrapped it under the basket. Maybe this can help catch the rain?

This rain wasn't even refreshing when it started. The muggy air just depressed you and the rain was warm and just meant to get you wet. Cupping my hands, I sipped up the little water droplets, my life force easing up from just the mere taste of water. I became as desperate as licking the water off my hands.

The basket did manage to catch some of the descending rain. I leaned back on the tree, shifting some of the leave coverage around us.

"Hey," I called. _"Raindrops keep falling on my head."_

Tristan blinked at me blankly. Way to make me look nuts.

"What?" he asked. That, my friends, was the moment I became suspicious. Tristan always finishes the words, even if he's mad or sad, or just moody.

"The song," I said. "I'm already freaking out enough. Just finish the goddamn words."

He glanced around, running a hand though his blazing red head. "Oh, uh, the Capitol must have wiped that from my memory."

My eyes narrowed, unconvinced. Why would they take out a memory like that?

Tristan shifted over next to me. "Just relax okay," he said, placing a gentle hand on my arm. What the hell...

Tristan gentle? Since when? There's a very specific reason why I have friends that are guys, and it's not for them to be _gentle._ If anything, we punch the other in the arm if they said something stupid.

Leaping to my feet, I shoved a heavy foot into Tristan. "Who the hell are you?" For a fraction of a second, it appeared that his eyes flared red, but the calmed into their solid brown color.

"I'm Tristan," he said, his voice creaking with anxiety. "We've been neighbors since we were born!"

That held no significants. So what if we were neighbors for years. We've only been friends since middle school. "You're not Tristan."

The...whatever he was... actually smiled at me. "Well, you're a smart one, aren't you?" His eyes melded to red, and he hissed, a row of sharp teeth glistening white. Sharp claws dug into my ankle and I hopped back. Fake Tristan rolled back into a standing position. We stared at each other for a moment before I did the most noble action ever.

Twisting on my heel, I turned around, sprinting, because my life sure as hell depended on it. "SHIIIIT!" I yelled. The cracks and whipping of tree branches behind me just made my legs go into overdrive. I pushed the thoughts of hunger and thirst and dying aside.

I'm running the hell away.

**_Kyla Sprit, District 9 Tribute_**

A stir of surprise swirled in my stomach upon seeing Quint.

He looked exhausted, hauling a whining four year old and strangely enough a ten year old girl.

Bringing back my sling, I aimed carefully at the back of his head. This could possiby do some damage. But then I dropped the pebble, thinking.

"Quint!" I called. His eyes swung around, finally carefully landing on me, hidden away in the trees.

"Why hello, Kyla!" He called back, glancing nervously about. "Fine day we're having." It was raining. Rocker had gone ahead to scout a bit, and I was on my own. Relaxing back in the tree, I couldn't help but notice Quint's usual air of confidence struggle to be prodcasted.

"I guess. How are those alliances going?" Quint's eyes casted downwards. He hefted the four year old higher up his hip.

"You don't need to know," he answered simply. A little knot in my stomach formed, feeling sort of bad for him. Even if he is a bit of a jerk.

As he started off towards the direction, my pity mounted. "I would suggest you get rid of the kids. They're mutts." Quint glanced over his shoulder, then gave a derisive snort of laughter.

"Yeah, sure. Nice try, Kyla." With that, he edged off into the woods.

_**Kaeden Whitrow, District 5 Tribute**_

I pressed a finger to my lips, keeping a careful eye on the kid. I think he was from District 6. Short, with a shag of dirty blonde hair, he was picking his way through the forest, the rain making strands of hair stick to his forehead. Neda leaned against me, on the side that was spear free.

Pulling back, I aimed his body, stocky and the most likely part to have a critical hit. My arm flowed backwards, ready to follow through.

"SHIIIIT!" The spear flew, going off course. Six dodged off the path, just before a quite random Dia sprinted past, a redheaded...thing chasing her. Wait isn't that the person that's supposed to be her friend?

Shifting around on the branch, I examined Neda. She looked like plain old, beautiful Neda. Six came back into view. He snatched up the spear, darting out of sight again. Dammit.

"Kaeden," she whispered. "I'm scared." Climbing down, I landed hard on the ground. Neda dangled from the branch for a moment, before dropping. We ducked down behind the bush. Could this me some sort of droid that's pretending to be Neda? A mutation? Some of the things she said didn't seem quite Neda-ish.

We sat there, allowing the rain to soak our faces. Neda wore my coat, her neck a rashy red from the wool material. "Are you okay?" I would have expected things to have been awkward after the good-byes. But she acted like the fact I kissed her never happened.

"Fine," she breathed, leaning her head on my shoulder. This had to be Neda. Even after spending whatever number of days in the Capitol, and in the woods, she still had that enticing scent of vanilla on her skin, mainly there to cover the underlying sickly-sweet smell of alcohol.

"Do I bother you?" Neda's eyes looked at me, her expression confused.

"Why would you say such a thing?" she asked. I bit the inside of my cheek.

"I never really tell you what I'm thinking. Not as much as I should. And after our goodbyes, you act like nothing happened." Neda blinked at me, her face blank, yet anxious.

"What are you trying to get at?" That was when it all came crashing down. At a moment like this, her face would usually flush a slight pink color.

A memory flashed across my mind.

_"You know, you blush a lot when you're around me. I never noticed that before." She glanced awkwardly at her shoes. Lifting up her chin, I leaned in, pressing my lips to hers. Before I knew it, Neda was pulled away. Her lively green eyes glistened one last time before disappearing behind the doors._

Neda would never play stupid. She would never say she was scared. If anything, she'd be off on another branch, helping shoot her own spear. This wasn't Neda.

I stood, pacing back a few steps. "We should get going." "Neda" stood. "Can you pick up the bag?"

She bent, and I hefted up the spear in my hand. I took aim, just about where her heart would be. If the mutt did have a heart.

Suddenly, I was hit from behind. Slammed into the ground, an angry hiss by my ear. From the corner of my vision, I saw specks of red. "Neda" looked up from where she was.

A spark of hope lit up in me. Maybe this was Neda. Maybe this actually was my friend, and she could somehow save me. Maybe I could actually enjoy my last moments with someone I love.

But even that spark was stomped out as the creature smiled, her teeth a row of razors. The mutt on my back dug painful claws into my back. "Neda" strolled up to me.

"Goodbye." And with that, a sharp pain surged through my temple, and the world faded black.

**Great, now I'm depressed. **

_**Deaths, so far**_

**Rimmer Kamerman, District 2**. _Killed by the vapor of Nightlock, caused by Violet Calloway_

**Nicholas Calloway, District 3.** _Killed by sword through the stomach, caused by Westria Vise_

**Kaeden Whitrow, District 5**._ Killed by injuries sustained by his mutt and mutt of Dia Lockhart._


	25. The L Bomb

**Wow, I'm tired. And god, after one comment, I'm scared. The fangirls _will_ get worse. If any one even mentions Team Gale or Team Peeta around me, they will die. In. Their. Sleep.**

**_Dorian Happens, District 6 Tribute_**

He's dead because of me.

Not me directly, but the mutts. I know every in and out of them, how to use them, how they work on the inside. I helped create them. Wasn't allowed to know what they were, but I know their blue prints, their small pieces. That's why I need to find Arianne. The man she's probably with right now isn't her father. It's a mutation waiting for the very moment to take her down.

Watching the guy from District 5 be flown away was honestly a little disturbing. Who's crying right now over his death? Parents? Siblings? Maybe a girlfriend? My hand wrapped around the spear's wooden staff part. And to think, it was almost me taken away by the helicopter.

Standing full height with spear in hand, I crept away quietly, the two mutts still in sight. But here's an interesting fact about them; when the tribute they are meant for dies, they themselves shut down. So, by killing their own tribute, they are destroying their own life force. Already, I could see the girl start to slow down, her malicious eyes fluttering shut.

I continued off aimlessly for another hour, the light fading fast. Before Five's cannon fired, two other distinct _booms_ had fired. My nerves were rattled heavily, not knowing the heart that had stopped, the breath that never exhaled, the eyes that saw one last glimpse of life before closing.

Arianne's eyes wouldn't come out of my mind. Why am I thinking about her so much? Why does my chest ache when I think about losing her?

Eventually, I came upon a clearing of empty grass. In the center kneeled a girl, her hand up-turned towards a delicate looking deer. Thick, long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, revealing pointed ears. Tanya.

The deer trotted up, giving her hand a quaint little sniff. It nudged its nose against her arm, nuzzling Tanya's neck lovingly. Then, in a quick motion, the girl grabbed the creature's head, snapping the neck to the left. I'm totally not scared.

Tanya's head seemed to pick up my quick intake of air, and her head swung around, her purple gaze locked onto me. All I had was a spear. I had no idea how to use that. All I've used all my life was knifes and other small tools, down in the labs.

"Um..." I said plainly, stepping back and planning a means of escape. Tanya, strangely enough, sighed with relief, the faintest of smiles on her lips.

"Dorian," she breathed. "We've been looking all over for you."

My spirits eased up. "We? You're with Arianne? Where is she?"

Tanya stuck a thumb over her shoulder. "Back at our campsite." Her voice creaked uneasliy. "She's with her dad, and my friend-"

"What? She's there by herself?" The relief in me came crashing down. Tanya furrowed her brows.

"Uh, well, she's there, as I said with-"

Before she could finish, I shoved past the girl, charging off into the direction she had pointed towards. "Arianne!" I called. Suddenly, two small, yet strong, hands dug onto my shoulders, stopping me in place.

"What's wrong with you?" Tanya demanded, spinning me around. Damn, she was strong. "Just listen to me. There's nothing to worry about. Her father may be old, but he'll do anything for his daughter. And Megan is my best friend, she's the most trustworthy person you'll ever meet."

I shook my head. "That's what I'm getting at. They're who I'm afraid of. They're mutts." Tanya paled.

"Arianne!" Tugging me around, we sprinted off, Tanya leading the way. Her feet dashed through all the roots and other obstructions with ease. At one point I stumbled, nearly killing myself with my own spear.

I found us in the alcove of a waterfall, and Tanya darted in behind the stream of water. Panting, I followed up in a steady jog. There were shouts of alarm, and then the distinct hiss of one of the creatures.

Sliding in, I took aim at the man, teeth bared out, inches from Arianne's neck. The spear managed to pierce his shoulder, only causing the mutt to spin around, red eyes blazing at me. He charged and instinct took over. Swinging my leg, my foot reared up striking- oh, wow, that just hurts just imagining.

Apparently, even on a mutt, that's a tender spot for the guy. He fell to his knees, growling in rage. I searched my memory. Blue prints, blue prints... dear Panem, I hope this works.

My hand darted in pinching his nose. His eyes instantly rolled into the back of his head. I yanked the spear from his oozing shoulder, stabbing hard into its stomach. Green puss secreted from him. I twisted the spear one last time before backing away, satisfied.

Arianne was crouched in the fetal position, her head tucked between her knees. Tanya stood, her clothing splattered with the green blood. Her own mutt was stashed in the corner, the head on the other side. Again, totally not ready to pee my pants.

"Arianne," I said, softly. Her head lifted up, watching me carefully.

"Dorian? That's really you, right? Not another freaky demon thing?" I knelt by her, chuckling lightly. "Can you prove it?"

"Yeah, me. You're Arianne Misham. I'm your ally," I answered, sitting next to her. "You are an amazing artist, and one of my best friends."

Her eyes brightened up. "Really?" The corners of her mouth crept up. "You're my best friend too. Probably my only friend, but still." I breathed out, a long sigh of relief. Standing, I offered a hand out too Tanya.

"Thanks, for, you know, helping out with Arianne." The girl gazed at my hand then shook it in a hesitant gesture. "We owe you."

A small smile split across her face. Arianne stood, walking over to me, leaning her head on my shoulder. Curse my height disadvantages. Still though, it felt natural.

"So how did you know to stop the guy like that? By pinching his nose?"

I shrugged. "Long story."

Tanya sat criss-cross on the ground. The rush of the waterfall blocked out the damn stone flutes, so my brain eased up. "We have time."

I motioned for Arianne to sit, and I just paced a bit. Helped work out my nerves and mounting tension. "Well, back in the district, my dad is a scientist." Tanya's face tensed up a bit, and I realized the words could bring back some bad memories. "He works in labs developing different things. He lets me help out, with my friend Unse."

"Right, District 6 specializes in drugs and medicine," Tanya stated. The sky was nearly dark, and the evening announcements of the deaths were going to be prodcasted. Our second night, but the first deaths.

"Well, in our lab, we work on the mutts of the Games," I shrugged.

Tanya and Arianne became quiet. "Wait, so you knew these things were not actually our friends and family?" Arianne squeaked. "You helped _create _them?" I blinked, taken aback by their response.

"Uh, not directly, my dad mainly-"

"So you help kill defenseless kids?" Arianne's voice wavered. "You know everything about these mutations, because you were there when they created them. So, the reapings being fixed; did they create the mutts specially for us, way in advance? Were you there when they made the look alike of my father?" This was not going the way I had hoped.

My words came out rambly. "I wasn't specifically there building them, I just saw the blue prints. I wasn't even fully sure they'd use these mutts." Arianne now stood, her eyes reflecting her hurt feelings, sparkling with betrayal.

"You never even told me," she said, her voice low, and more to herself. "Did you think for a moment I'd just be okay with you working for _them? _The _monsters_ who got us here in the first place? Monsters help create these Games."

Desperation clawed away at me, as well as rage. "Well, you know what, Arianne? If it weren't for those monsters, I would have never met you."

She stepped back. "Why does it matter?"

The words came out before I could truly think. "Because I love you!"

There was a long, painfully awkward moment of silence. The Capitol must have slammed into there television sets to watch every next second. Then her eyes narrowed on me. "Get out."

The small build up of anger slipped from me. "Arianne-"

"Get out. Now." I tried to lay a hand on her shoulder but she just tore away, snatching up a rock and throwing it at my chest. "I said, get out!" she screamed. Tanya just sat, watching the mayhem unfold with a dopey expression on her face. She's smart for just staying of this.

Without another option, I inched away, out the opening, grabbing the spear as I went. Night air greeted me, and I found myself wandering the woods, alone, again.

Finding a tree, I clenched my fist, punching it hard. My knuckles scratched against it hard, and I bit down hard on my tongue. "Fuck!"

I am so stupid. Crawling under a bush, I rubbed my cheek, and found it moist. The anthem played, and I stared up at the sky.

I can't believe I said it. I didn't even think about saying it.

They just blurted their way out. And its the truth. I love Arianne. And she hates me.

**_Westria Vise, District 1 Tribute_**

"Three dead," Filler announced. "Rimmer, kid from Three...huh, dude from Five. Honestly didn't expect that one." He settled back around our campfire. The anthem played again. But before the sky darkened again, another face appeared. Gamemaker Fulton.

"Good evening, tributes," she said cheerily. Oh, how much I want to slit her throat right now. "Still alive, I pressume. That's good. But it is time again for a special little twist. Now, here in this year's Hunger Games, we don't want any one to have too much of an advantage. We should always, what's that? Oh, yes, think twice.

"So why am I rambling? Well, we would like to show you the recaps of today. Just things we think would be interesting for you to know."

Leaning back, our little show started up with the three Three's stumbling up a tree. They whispered amongst themselves before our own group popped into view. We rewatched the turning of the mutts, the fall of boy Three, and Rimmer's rattling death. Then the vividly gory death of the guy from Five. All the scenes started to meld together, certian little details perking up. The blonde with pigtails running off from a random ass arrow shot next to her. The little 12-year-old being mauled by her baby brother.

At one point, Cadette errupted with chortles of mocking laughter. Apparently, one tribute had pulled out the "L" word. Oh, that's just painful for me to watch.

Then, something specific latched onto me. The giddy laughter of Brooke and Trey, hand-in-hand, rushing up the steep, rocky terrain of some sort of cliff. Something in me wanted them dead specifically.

Traitors.

Fulton's face popped up one last time. 'And for those who just got onto our little secret." Her face crept up into a creepy smile. "Surprise." Her face disappeared.

And then the screaming began.

Eerie, hauntingly close. Cadette stood, cupping her hands around her mouth.

"It's a mad house! A mad house!" She plopped onto her bottom, shaking with laughter. Filler smiled, laughing along with her. Okay, I'm done.

Sweeping up my sword, I climbed to my feet. "Well, it's been a great ride guys," I stated, swinging the weapon around in my hand. "But I think I'm going off on my own." The two stopped laughing, and Carson raised his head up at me.

"What?" Filler asked, leaning back on his hands. I edged off towards dark woods, away from the trickles of heat casted by the fire. The beginnning of the evening snow was starting, and I tugged the wool coat up closer to me. The circle of light was a stupid idea, but pampered little Careers needed their fire. If it wasn't for the food we found stashed in Three's pocket, we would have starved hours ago.

"Honestly, you guys annoy the hell out of me. And we already lost three of the pack today. Why not lose another?" Before I heard another arguement, I slipped into the woods.

About five minutes later, the rustle of leaves made me jerk around. "Who's there?" I held the sword out, weilding it as I know I should. The shadow of a face appeared.

"It's just me." It was Carson. "I'm coming with you."

"I'm on my own," I stated.

"With an ally. You do know the other two will be out for blood, and you're the closest person they know is in range." I shrugged. He had a point.

**_Jayden Crush, District 11 Tribute_**

So, in a way, I'm lucky; since Quint took my "sister," he has the mutt. But why did I have to track them down?

Quint sprinted beside me, us running for our lives now. "So about that alliance..." he shouted.

"Quint," I glared. "Just shut up."

**_Allie Manson, District 8 Tribute_**

My own screaming bounced around in my ears. The claws dug into me, the pain never stopping. The mutts found a certain joy and watching me slowly die, my life force depleting.

And suddenly, it stopped. Two pairs of hands, after mainly shouts and hisses from both sides, propped me up on the tree trunk.

"Do you think we can help her?" the echoy voice of Rocker said.

"Try to stench the blood flow," a lighter, more hesitant voice answered. Kyla?

Coldness creeped down my back, and I only half took notice of it. The full moon swan in my vision and the delightful call of sleep hushed over me.

"Stay awake," Kyla's voice demanded. "We won't let you die."

I blinked, splotches of darkness dancing in my vision.

_Boom!_

**Deaths, so far**

Rimmer Kamerman, District 2

Nicholas Calloway, District 3

Kaeden Whitrow, District 5

Mysterious tribute at the end of this chapter. **Who do you think is dead?**

**Intense chapter, in my opinion. Read and review.**


	26. Thanks, Big Guy

**So, my vacation plans for next week are if-y. Updating, yeah, not sure how it'll work. (Shrugs) Oh well, let's just get to it**

_**Drale Shetler, District 10 Tribute**_

"Mutts don't kill tributes, _grr, grr,_" Robyn anxiously singsonged. "The Capitol kills tributes, _grr, grr. _With mutts." The Cornucopia shook again. I grabbed onto the woven gold, as well as Robyn's wrist. I casted her a slight glaring, "you're crazy" look.

"Sorry, trying to lighten the mood." The Cornucopia rattled again, and I knew one of the mutts had gotten a tight grip onto the side. I barely made it up here with both my legs. Robyn- she lives in District 11, give me a break.

A snarling girl, who I guessed, by her dark complexion, was Robyn's supposed friend, lept up, her claws inches from my feet. I pulled back, trying hard to balance on the tall structure.

"Ways we can die," Robyn's voice called out. "Mauled by mutts, death by smashing our skulls into the ground below..."

"Or?"

The girl shrugged, her face pretty hopeless. "I have no idea. This is the Hunger Games. The Capitol could electrocute us with some random ass bolt of lightning if they wanted too."

Well, life was good while it lasted.

_Boom!_

At the sound of the cannon firing, the mutt screeched, plummeting down to the ground. These things may be deadly, but they're quite fragile beings. Like any person, just tricked out with fangs and claws, and strange strength and abilities.

Kind of, a little bit, like Tanya...

**_Teagan Aniston, District 12 Tribute_**

He's around here somewhere. I know for a fact.

The black arrow felt cold in my hand. The way it was shot, I know it hadn't been meant to kill me. If anything, a warning. My finger ran along the shaft, down to the pointed tip. Even after striking the ground, the point still grazed my finger with a sharp touch.

Suddenly, I heard the snap of a twig. The steady hum of the stones and chirps of crickets melded together, but the sound was distinct. I stood, pressing the arrow into my palm.

My breathing sped up, and I struggled to calm it. My brain was just muddled and overworked, the hum constant in my ears. I backed away from the source of the snap. My back pressed against something, but it wasn't a tree.

I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut. This was it. This was the end. A mutt, and if not, another tribute prepared to finish me off.

A hand brushed against my shoulder. "Teagan?"

My nerves eased. "Kellen." I saw the vague outline of his silhouette, the moonlight glinting off his ashy blonde hair. He gestured toward the tree, giving me a slight boost up into the tree. As I helped him up, I opened my mouth, wanting to ask what he's been up to. But he simply pressed a finger to his lips.

Perched upon the branch, Kellen swayed easily with the wind. I had stupidly left my jacket behind, not really thinking I'd need it. I barely made it through the first night alive without my toes freezing off. My teeth chattered. Scratchy wool scratched against my face, and I blinked up to see Kellen.

"You're chattering may give away our position," he said, his face scrunching up apologetically. I took it still, snuggling in the slight warmth still radiating from it from Kellen.

Somewhere, in the bushes, there was a shake. Peering through the darkness, I observed a dark head, not jet black, but also not blonde. Brown hair? It was long, and I don't recall any of the boys having long hair. The body shape was hard to figure since she wore the wool coat, but I was pretty sure it was a girl.

Kellen pulled back the bowstring, an arrow notched. The feathery part met just about the corner of his mouth. My eyes fluttered down at a sudden breeze, snow tickling my nose, sticking to my hair. With that movement of my eyes, I caught sight of a flash of movement.

Soon, the figure rose, in a position out of Kellen's view. The shadow rose, what seemed to be an arm pulling back...with the sharp point of some sort of weapon casting a shadow over their face.

"Watch out!" I screamed, shooting up, and shoving my partner down. He lost his balance, sending his arrow wide, and falling. When my feet lost any feeling of something underneath me, a sharp, shooting pain flitted up my arm. I landed ontop of Kellen, while he landed on, thankfully, a pile of snow.

"What's your-" Kellen started off in hushed anger, but he halted, mid-sentence. With a light hand, he grabbed my wrist, pulling my arm in closer to closely examine the wound. He tugged out whatever the weapon had been, shoving it in my hand.

"We gotta move," he urged, coming to his feet. "Can you hold yourself together?" I nodded my assent. Glancing around, Kellen darted off, his quiver of arrows bouncing on his back (how lucky was he to score those?)

Then, another flicker of movement. I turned to face it, somewhere to my right.

I barely lept to the side in time to dodge the vicious girl's knife. I realized then what I had been hit with; some sort of blade made of wood. Isn't this the girl from Seven? That must explain it.

I guess she had been hoping on ambush, because instantly, she slipped back into the woods. I saw the fly of an arrow and a moment later a cannon.

My eyes blinked once, twice. I only then realized the buckle of my knees and cold of the snow against my cheeks. Kellen kneeled by me, and the fog of my breath blew into his face. My whole body felt sore and I couldn't even imagine standing.

"Teagan," Kellen whispered anxiously. "We still gotta move, we're not safe."

This is the Hunger Games, Kellen. We're never safe.

**_Jayden Crush, District 11 Tribute_**

I found myself sitting on a tree branch across from Quint. We had ran for a good portion of the night, and we had finally gotten the sense to hide. He had the general idea that we were not in a general, mutual alliance.

"All we have to do is keep quiet, and try to track down the other tributes," he rambled. I didn't even realize he had been talking. He never does seem to need rest it seems. He'll probably shut up when the grass stops growing.

I've never been so mean. That's Quint for you. He could probably turn a baby into a cold-hearted murderer.

Seeing me fully awake, he stood, inching across the branch carefully before snatching onto one from my tree. The first tendrils of daylight lit up the sky and I could make out his face. He scrambled up, sitting comfortably next to me.

"So, I assume that, by now, Westria would have left the pack. She seems like the type to just be annoyed by the Careers. And Trey and Brooke are alone together. Carson, well, he's hard to figure out, he could be with anyone. Kellen seems to be watching out for Teagan. And Dorian may be a little off his guard, with a broken heart and all. Or ready to kill whatever is in sight. Robyn and Drale...not fully sure about them, do you think there's something going on between them?"

He's letting me speak? (Wow, I've spent way to much time around Robyn...)

"Oh, uh, well, it looks like they're allies," I said. I should really just go. I tried to stand, but Quint just tugged me back down.

"Well, yeah, but do you think they may like each other?" I raised my eyebrows at this. How would that affect if we hunt them down?

"Um, Robyn never seemed like the type to fall for a guy in the Games."

Quint cocked his head to the side. "Oh, is she like a lesbian or something?" Okay, that's it. I'm done.

Easing to full height on the tree, I wandered down the branch. Quint snatched at my ankle. "Wait!" In that movement, he pulled my foot back, and my balance wavered.

"Crud!" I yipped, and my body weight flew downwards, tugging Quint down with me. We flew for a moment, before landing hard. The wind knocked out of me, and as I breathed in again, I heard a cannon fire.

My head swung around, and my stomach churned slightly. Is Quint's neck supposed to bend at that angle? Oh, god. Struggling to my feet, I found my leg broken as well. Hot pain shot up my leg, and I shouted in pain, sinking down onto my bottom.

The rustle of leaves made my head jerk around. And then an unmistakable hiss.

I've been hunted. And as the creature I thought was my sister strides towards me, I breathe in my last breath.

I flash of movement, and I here the sounds of screaming. The last thing I take in is that the screams are mine.

**_Rocker Tripp, District 8 Tribute_**

Allie was bleading pretty badly. Honestly, my hope wore thin. Kyla could treat her somewhat, but her face slowly drained of color as the sky started to brighten. For one moment, we had been scared half to death when a cannon fired. But after a rattling, uneven breath from Allie, we let out a nervous sigh of relief.

The snow started to ease, and I estimated it to be about 5 o'clock. There's something up with this stuff, because once the sun would come up, it melted within an hour or two. Kyla glanced at me uneasily.

_Boom! Boom!_

We both glanced around nervously towards Allie, who just fluttered her eyes in a gesture of _I'm not dead._

I lay back, reviewing our options. Seeing that we have none, I turn to Kyla.

"You have any ideas?" Kyla chewed her bottom lip, her lightly freckled face deep in thought.

"We can pray." Pray? Not many people believed in a God any more. We mainly see it as, if there was, he would have stopped this fro happening. God never stopped the Capitol from taking over.

I'm not sure what I believed. I shrugged, going along with Kyla.

She took my hand, as well as Allie's, closing her eyes, and bowing her head. I followed suit, peeking open my eyes to give the girl a side-long glance.

"Dear Lord," she said in a voice much older than a 12 year old. "Please help our friend, in her time of need. Protect us, and please forgive us for the sins we have commited. Just please, save Allie." Her voice choked up. "I know you have plans, and that we are all meant to do these things for a reason. Just please, don't let Allie go just yet."

Dropping hands, we all leaned back. "So what happens now?"

"It's a prayer," Kyla explained. "God answers it, when the time is right. Or just by helping when we need it."

"But we need help," I said. "Now."

Kyla shrugged. "Sometimes, God has his own plans, plans we don't always share."

Furrowing my eyebrows, I slammed the ground. "That's just bull. If God is so important and powerful, why can't he help us save Allie."

"Maybe he is saving her by letting her go on." The words were quite true, but I didn't want to believe them. My mouth opened to argue again, just when a silver little package floated down in front of us. That's impossible. Who would send _us_ a package? Kyla tour off the paper, revealing a first aid kit.

Blinking, my gaze traveled over to Kyla. And when I thought a smile could never make me so happy.

The girl started treating our friend. I excused myself, wandering off to check the perimeter.

I looked up at the traces of brightening blue in the sky, a smile creeping across my face. "Thanks, Big Guy."

***P.S. You were all saying, oh, you won't kill Allie. I started actually debating killing her then, just to keep you on your toes***

_**And the dead pile up...**_

**Rimmer Kamerman, District 2**

**Nicholas Calloway, District 3**

**Kaeden Whitrow, District 5**

**Reeda "Ree" Kails, District 7. **_Death by wound inflicted by an arrow, caused by Kellen_

**Quinten Wilkens, District 9. **_Death by broken neck from falling from tree_

**Jayden Crush, District 11. **_Death by wounds inflicted by his own mutt_

**It's that time of chapter again. Questionaire time! Of those still alive, and based on what has happened in the Games:**

**Favorite Tribute(s)  
><strong>**Least Favorite(s)  
>Worst Death (In Whatever Manor You Feel)<br>****Most Likely To Win  
>Tribute You <em>Want <em>To Win  
><strong>**Next Death?  
>Favorite Arena Moment<strong>


	27. That's A Strange Twist Of Fate

**Official plans for vacation; leaving Monday, instead of Saturday. (Still a maybe) So you're stuck with me longer, ha!**

**And the mysterious death at the end was supposed to be Ree, if you didn't pick up. Everything clear? I hope. (And how can I spell bleeding wrong? I must have really been having a moment...)**

_**Cadette Flinch, District 2 Tribute**_

I had always imagined Rimmer dying from my own blade. If anything, dreampt it. But once he died like that, I actually felt bad. He was a brave ally, and worthy competitor. Shaking the thoughts away, I focused back onto Filler. This is the Hunger Games. People die. People die everyday. What's the difference if it's earlier than planned?

Oh, damn. My only ally is _Filler._ Filler Charlesworthe. His name just makes you crave to punch him in the face.

For the past fews days, we've lived off of snow and the plants we can familiarize with what we found in Three's pocket. For some reason, I want to kill the girl. More than everyone else. It was like, she made a fool out of me. In front of Panem.

We passed by the body of water. Upon seeing it, Filler's eyes widened like a kid in a candy store. He smiled at me, pulling off his jacket and t-shirt, kicking off his boots. His smile quickly lit up into a smirk as he hopped stepped into the water in just his undershorts. My hand slammed up into my forehead, in a facepalm gesture. Wait. Was I blushing?

The water had reached mid-calf when he paused. "Something's wrong with this water." Live in District 4 all your life, apparently you can identify "correct" forms of water. He twisted around, catching the expression on my face. "No, seriously. Something about it seems a little slimey." Not strange at all.

"So, uh, do you think it's posioned?" I asked, leaning back on a tree. Filler shrugged. He waded in deeper, then dunked his head. I debated whether having him magically drown would be good or bad.

Suddenly his head popped up, digging the heel of his hands into his eyes. "Okay, bad water, bad water." He blindly strode through the water, trying to find the shore. Dammit. Looks like I'm saving his ass.

I pulled off the wool coat, rolling up my jeans to above my knees. What are the odds; I'm saving the District 4 boy from water.

Grabbing his forearm and shoulder, I led him up to sure. Filler collapsed and I gathered his clothing back together. After a minute, he eventually eased his eyes open. A fierce blue, with an underlying tone of green I never quite noticed before. The whites were a pinkish red, but slowly blinking away back to its milky white color.

He puffed a breath of air out, breezing across my forehead. Filler was laying flat on his back, me watching him intently from above. "I didn't look that stupid, right?"

I shook my head. "Filler, to me, you always look stupid." He smiled, then gave me a curious look. "What?"

"Did you know, that, when your not scowling, you actually look pretty cute?" This brought a deep scowl onto my face, making the boy laugh.

"I thought you had a thing for Brooke," I said breezily. Filler's eyes narrowed momentarily before crossing into a smirk.

"Okay, got me there. But honestly, you were right. I was more of a fine male specimen to flirt with then to actually get to know." I thumped his head then, standing full height.

"Just get up." My eyes drifted down to his midsection. "And, please, put some clothes on."

**_Trey Canter, District 7 Tribute_**

My life rules. Brooke had managed to get her hands on a couple of knives and we were able to steal some other tribute's supplies that they left behind. The blonde girl smiled over at me, her light pink lips perking up in a frisky smile.

Day three, and life was going good. Since we ditched the others yesterday, things have been pretty calm. The waterfall below crashed together with the sound of the stones, and as when we climbed to the top of the cliff area, we managed to have a complete view of any unwanted company.

Brooke sat up from her layed back position. "So what do we do now?" I asked.

"What do you think we should do?" she said simply, leaning in closer to me. Honestly, a few days roughing it does not help this girl's looks. Her curls were tangled an knotty, nails coated with grime. With me, the appearance is hot. Her...not so much.

"Well, first," I leaned in, kissing the sexy lips of hers. She answered back enthusiastically, her hands tangling into my hair. I tugged her closer, body to body. Did I say my life rules?

An unanticipated gag caught me off guard. I yanked back, whipping my head about to find the source. Freak's Friend stood, eyes swivelling around.

"Oh, damn," she verbalized. "That's not good." Leaping to my feet, I slipped out one of the knives from my pocket, chasing down the girl as she pivoted and fled. I charged after her. She pounded down the path of the cliff. For a moment, she suddenly ducked out of view. Surging forward, I made my way down the path towards the bottom, assuming she'd just try to run.

An unexpected foot stuck its way out into the open. I stumbled over, both of us grunting from the pain. I landed roughly on the hands, mere inches from the edge. The path wound its way down the cliff, a narrow space allowing for at least one person to walk somewhat safely down. Freak's Friend slammed a heavy foot into my back.

"Get off me, twerp!" Jerking upwards, I sent the girl tripping back several steps. We stood off for a few seconds. Then, in a flourish of movement, I swept the knife, bringing it across her stomach. She stepped back enough that it only slightly skimmed her, and as I pulled through, she swung her foot up, knocking the blade from my hand. The damn thing skipped and rattled all the way down the cliff.

Flexing my stinging hand for a moment, I latched onto her throat. I may be a big guy, but this girl has some fight in her. She rocked on her heels, propelling herself forward, me stumbling backwards. We tumbled about down the rocky terrain, a firm grip on the other.

Rock finally collided with my back. Ignoring the sting of pain, I shoved forward, slamming Freak's Friend hard into the ground. She called out in pain, a red puddle blooming from the back of her head. A smile formed across my face.

"Who's the asshat now, bitch?" She glared hard into me.

"Still you." A gutteral horking sound rumbled in her throat, a thick wad of spit smacking me dead in the eye. I eased up, wiping the disgusting grime from my face with the back of my hand.

She wiggled out from underneath me, sprinting down the turn. Red tracks traveled from where she stepped, having had slid through her puddle. I scrambled to my feet, my hands slipping through the blood.

I watched as Freak II ran until she tripped. A second figure appeared in sight, blonde. Seeing a distraction, I glanced about, trying to find a suitable weapon.

"Screw it." I made my way to where Brooke was, grappling with the girl. Freak flipped her over, yanking her foot desperately on the piece of twine wound around it. I charged the girl, shoving her to the ground, hands wrapped tightly around her airway. She fought, jerking about and banging her bleeding head against the ground.

Icy blue eyes stared hard at me. She managed out a final set of words, raspy and fighting for breath. "At least I didn't die a coward."

Eventually, the spark of life in her eyes faded.

A cannon fired.

I leaned back, examining the body. She deserved something a little more...special with her death.

Lifting her chin, I bent down, pressing my lips to hers. The warmth was already fading. I patted her face, smirking to myself.

"Nighty night, bitch."

**_Tanya Ride, District 10 Tribute_**

Already, after the death announcements, there have been four deaths today. And with each firing of a cannon, Arianne seems to be shrinking smaller and smaller into a ball. Her worries were quite evident, but if I even mentioned the D word around her, she'd flip out.

I can't really blame her. He helps create mutts. My first instinct, though, seeing that everyone here was supposedly here for a reason, was why would he be here? He helps the Capitol. So why would they want him dead?

Although, since he did know, he possibly saved our lives.

We were living off the deer I got last night. It was good meat, and Arianne added a few extra herbs that actually made it pretty good. But with every passing moment, her mental health seemed to be deteriorating. If only Dorian was here, he would know what to do...

But he isn't, Tanya. That's why she's like this.

Right after he left, Arianne just errupted in a wave of rattling sobs. I'm not used to having boy problems or heartbreaks since neither I nor my friend Megan are the kind to date, or, uh, be more than friends with a boy. Mainly me not even talking to a boy.

I had no idea what we were going to do. My hopes had honestly been in Dorian. Arianne doesn't really appreciate the outdoors. It scares her, if anything. She usually crosses her arm, folding herself inwards. However, when Dorian showed up for those mere minutes, her shoulders relaxed and she actually smiles.

The fact Dorian helped build mutts had been a strong betrayal for Arianne. Him revealing his true feeling only blindsided her more. Like, she's in the mindset that, she's supposed to hate him, and knowing his feelings about her made it harder.

Because Arianne loved him back. Even I could see that.

**_Robyn Achene, District 11 Tribute_**

I'm actually still alive. Head on my shoulders, all limbs and digets attached. How? I have no idea. Plain luck.

We had more than half a dozen mutts trying to kill us. But Drale had found out something, by pure luck.

Apparently, somehow, some way, when you are _inside _the Cornucopia, they can't get you. Don't hav eany idea how, but when we hopped down into it after a vicious kid with shaggy hair and a dark haired eight-ish, nine-ish year old tried to kill us, they dissipated life confetti. Whoa, what kind of analogy is that? Well, when they tried to cross into the Cornucopia, they exploded.

Any way, we sat there, staring at each other. His big brown eyes were blank, seeming to look through me. Noon had come by the time we spoke.

"We're still alive," I stated lamely. Drale nodded, his eyes veering down.

"Woo-hoo."

**_Violet Calloway, District 3 Tribute_**

I had no idea what to do. Klaus would be the one to think up a strategy. But the Talking Claudia killed him.

Cupping my hands, I pressed them over my ears. You're losing it Vi. I didn't even have my ribbon. My ribbon, that the boy from Four had used to track us down. So I helped kill him.

No, I didn't kill. The girl from One did. And Claudia. Talking Claudia.

I stepped out from under my tree coverage. Where was I to go?

Suddenly, a hand leapt out, pulling me in somewhere. I gazed up, light blues eyes fiercly eyeing me.

"Please," I choked. "Don't kill me." Hot tears swam down my face. "Please?"

The girl's eyes narrowed on me. "This is for you, Rimmer. No matter how much of an ass you may have been." An abrupt brush of trees made the girl's grip loosen, distracting her.

"Cadette," a voice called. This was my chance. Spastically, I bunched and threw several elbows and awkward kicks. Slipping out, I dashed away. Angry yells called after me, but I blocked it out.

Something in me at that moment snapped. I lost my brother, who I promised would see another birthday.

I'm going to live, to see my little sister again. My actual sister. And I'll do whatever I can to get there. To get home.

**_Teagan Aniston, District 12 Tribute_**

"So you just found the bow and arrow randomly in the woods?" It didn't make much sense. The holy grail of the Hunger Games. That's like the Capitol saying, "The soldiers aren't working this Sunday, so we're totally open to a rebellion that day."

Kellen shrugged. "Yeah. Lucky, I guess."

We traveled parallel to the stream, moving further away from the rumbling of the waterfall. Kellen kept an acceptable berth away from the water.

At one point, he strode over to the water, dipping his head in. I grabbed at his shoulder anxiously.

"The water's no good," I said, the memory of the bunny the two tributes had dunk into the stream coming back to be in a disturbingly vivid flash. He sat up straight, not at all worried.

"Well, look, this story is a little far-fetched, but hear me out. See, I had just found the bow, along with the arrows, and stopped by to take a sip. Honestly, I was too good of a mood to think about it. Instantly, my body clenched up. My stomach knotted and my arm twitched slightly. I automatically felt like a complete idiot. I kind of laid back, trying to fight through it when this ugly little bug wandered up. I think it was a scorpion of something of the sorts. I tried to brush it off my my fingers wouldn't keep still.

"It then stung me. Hurt like hell, but I felt okay afterwards. And when I drank the water again, I was fine."

I became quiet as we walked along. So he not only got lucky enough with the arrows, but with suvuving the drinkng water. What are the odds? For someone like him, you'd expect us to be in the middle of the ocean to ensure that he was dead.

But they didn't. He was lucky enough to be in the woods, have a bow and arrows, and survive the drinking water, with the odds of the very creature that would save him stinging him had that very moment.

"Kellen..." I started off uneasily.

"What?"

I tugged at my pigtail, unsure on how he'll take this. "Don't you think all of this is a little coincidental? Like everything is working out for you?"

He shrugged. "Maybe."

My eyes winced at the pain flaring up at the back of my head. I yanked too hard, my nerves shaky, my thoughts a little insane. "Do you think the Capitol wants you to win?"

**Bum, bum, buuum.**

_**And more lives are stolen from the world...**_

**Rimmer Kamerman, District 2**

**Nicholas Calloway, District 3**

**Kaeden Whitrow, District 5**

**Dia Lockhart, District 5. **_Death by strangulation, caused by Trey_

**Reeda "Ree" Kails, District 7**

**Quinten Wilkens, District 9**

**Jayden Crush, District 11**

**Next chapter, I am beginning to put in motion those specific plans I had swirrling around in my head. Events and deaths, taht will lead to a very interesting ending.**

**And I hate hurricanes. People are panicing like crazy. We're not used to them, so people are going all out. I'm not sure how the power will be effected**


	28. Gamemaker Fulton's Dirty Little Secret

**Okay, so my plans for the following chapters have had something to do with a kiss turned to blood, Trey losing his temper, and giving a lovely hand to Cadette. But, since reviews can inspire, I have a special presentation for you. Thanks, rlnintendo! I couldn't think of an appropriate way to bring this aspect in until later. But this actually worked out better.**

**(And how can I spelled shore wrong! I swear, I'm more educated than that. I even went back and changed what I could find grammar and spelling wise. I know there are still some there) *Bangs head against wall at own stupidity***

_**Gamemaker Fulton, Capitol Resident**_

Greetings reader of my imagination! If you can't tell by the random title above in bold italics, I'm Ms. Gamemaker Fulton, the figure of burning hatred of many in Panem, or of inspirational glory. Depends on who you're asking.

The bright lights of the Capitol City shined behind the curtains. On any usual day, I kept them open, welcoming in the sounds and sights of the outdoor world. However, on night like this one, the remained shut.

Nights of the Games.

In about an hour or two, the evening announcements of the dead will start, along with further hintings of the Feast. The plans for that will be deadly.

All of a sudden my breath became short, my chest tight. I shoved back the curtains, sliding the door of the balcony hard. It still wasn't the same. I needed trees and grass, not the city.

Grasping hold of the railing, I stared out. Even though I had recaps of the Games playing in my room, the sounds of cheery reporters and other announcers echoed throughout the whole city, from small homes, to large plasmas splayed out outdoors in various places.

The dark shadow sat in the corner, hunched over with elbows rested comfortably on her knees.

"The girl knows," I stated plainly. The shadow stood, shrugging the hood over her dark hair. Her face, shroud in darkness, although beautiful, even after so many years, looked weary and gaunt.

"You think." She grabbed onto the railing, breathing out a long tired sigh. "I'm getting too old for this."

At that, I laughed, but not whole-heartedly. My hair tickled at my face as a breeze whistled by, and loose brown strands drifted away. "Why are you here, Jay?"

The woman's eyes narrowed at the name, although, making no comment. "Just checking up on you. Seeing how you are."

"How is everyone holding up?" My stomach twisted as a gray strand blew against my finger. Great, I'm still in my twenties and I'm already starting to receive the delightful traits of old.

"Okay. Mitchell seems to be a little upset," she shrugged. "I think that girl from Five grew on him a bit." Dia Lockhart, District Five Female Tribute, age 17. I shook my head, slightly disgusted with myself for memorizing her statistics. She had been a person, just like the rest of them.

"He'll live on," I said breezily. "She was only seventeen any way. Odair's, I swear, will fall in love with any one." The woman smiled, sadness the only apparent emotion playing on her face.

We allowed a span of silence to pass by. I noticed her hands gripping the railing so tight, they were a ghostly white. I reached out, patting her hand kindly.

"Well, he knows now." We were off the topic of Mitchell now. "At least, if he believes the girl. The idea is at least lodged in his head. Although stubborn, I know Kellen will believe it eventually, Katniss." A drop of water fell down onto my hand. I pulled back, looking up at her.

"But what is he going to do? Kill himself?" Katniss pulled away. "There's nothing he can do." She walked off to the edge, looping her legs over the rail. "And so what if we messed up the message? My son is still in the Games. It wasn't going to make a difference."

"It wasn't about just saving Kellen, you know," I said briskly, walking back to the balcony door. "There are other kids to save. Other rebels to save." Katniss sent me one fleeting look before dropping down. The light thuds of her boots against cement carried on until the other sounds of the night overlapped it.

I closed the door, locking it tight behind me. Why, whenever she comes here, I get that terrible twist of guilt in my stomach? So many deaths, my own fault.

Kneeling on the floor, I blindly felt around for my book. A papercut and brush of rug burn later, the heavy drop of it a little sadening. I licked through, my finger landing on the smirking face of Dia. My shaking hand yanked the marker, drawing a crooked X across the picture. Another pang of guilt and sadness.

Dia Lockhart. Reaped for the reason of suspicions of being a rebel. Her hard-edged exterior and defiant attitude made her a target and enemy. She had nothing to do with the rebellion, but those underlying worries of her either already being, or eventually becoming, a rebel were apparent. The fact that her younger sister had been reaped years earlier didn't help matters.

Out of habit, I flipped through to the X-ed pages. District Two, Rimmer Kamerman, age 18, death by nightlock. His history isn't as detailed as others since he is a volunteer. Volunteering in place of his friend, Sandro Manna, age 17, targeted rebel. I had a profile on Sandro as well, since he had been an anticipated. Strangely enough, after receiving a message, I was forced to X his face out too. And after I thought he was safe.

Apparently, Sandro had been killed by an explosion that was meant to destroy the Justice Building of his district. Allies, Poppy Grice, age 18, and Jade Flinch, age 12, are now in Capitol custody. Jade Flinch, notably, was the sister of Cadette Flinch, age 16.

District Three, Nicholas "Klaus" Calloway, age 14, death by sword through stomach. Brother of Violet Calloway, age 14, fellow tribute. His parents had been weapon/technology specialists and traders for the rebels. Extremely well-known. He and his sister were under suspicion of also being rebels.

I flipped through faster, an angry twitch to my turn.

District Five, Kaeden Whitrow, age 17, death by mutt. He volunteered for his best friend's brother, Milo Rosewood, age 14. Neda, age 16, and Milo Rosewood's parents were once high end rebels. Their mother was then killed by the smallest dose of anthrax. She was told, if she tells any one she was basically poisoned, a heavier, more lethal dose would be spread throughout the whole district. Her husband then turned away from the rebels, wanting nothing else from them.

For a moment, I stood, pacing across the room. Keep it together, Van. You're losing it. Pausing, I sighed, running a hand through my hair. My hand pulled back, feeling very oily. It's been awhile since I showered.

Shaking my head, I plopped back down onto the bed. I can do that later. I had to finish looking through it. The book has become a sort of sick obsession over the past fews days. A routine needed to be followed.

District Seven, Reeda "Ree" Kails, age 14, killed with an arrow. Reaped for the reason of stumbling upon a headquarters in the woods of District 7, that specialized in tracking possible rebels in the district.

District Nine, Quinten Wilkens, age 12, killed by broken neck. His friend, Phillip Ender, age 13, was an informant in the district. The reaping of Quinten instead meant to get Phillip to reveal what he knew to the Capitol.

My fingers twitched slightly passing over the Ten tributes. Dear Tanya, the girl has been through so much already. And the whole ordeal with her Pa, the very reason she was in the Games, because of that damned steroid, finding out about her brother. There are still more secrets for her to find out about.

Fighting back the tears, I continued on. Just one more for tonight. District Eleven, Jayden Crush, age 14, killed by a mutt. His family, simple folks. They had once helped a wanted rebel criminal escape, a long time ago. That's why he had been born in the fields that night.

I couldn't swallow. So many deaths, my fault. Sliding the book back under the bed, I layed back, staring at the ceiling. My mind drifted the Dorian Happens. He must be thinking some of these deaths were his fault. If it weren't for me, he wouldn't have even have something to create.

Dorian Happens, District 6, age 15. Reaped under suspicions his father was supporting the rebels by giving them weapons. Really, it was his friend Unse, but the Capitol didn't know that. His tribute partner, Arianne Misham, age 15, had been reaped for much the same reason. Only her father sold medicine to the resistance.

I know everything about these kids. Everything. Even those small things, and stuff shoved deep into their closets. Sitting up, I looked at the TV screen. Westria Vise, age 17, and Carson Drox, age 18, walked along through the foliage, hunting their next target. I even knew things the tributes didn't know.

One of Westy's best friend, Trey Madders, was one of the most notorious rebels out there. Extremely knowledged, as well as deadly. Carson, well, his girlfriend was pregnant.

The screen flashed to the scene of Allie Manson and Rocker Tripp, along with Kyla Sprint. Both Allie and Kyla's mother's died in child birth of their younger sibling. What they never knew was that they were "let go" on purpose by the doctors. Rocker, truly, they had gotten some false offenses put against him. His neglect for authority made him a likely suspect for rebellion, and he went unaccounted for during the same period of time some important files had been stolen. Truly, he had been playing manhunt with his younger brother.

Drale Shetler and Robyn Achene, both 17 came on. Drale had spoken out for a man who was an informer in the district. Robyn, her brother-in-law refused to become a Peacekeeper after being tipped off on some very secretive information.

I plopped back down. My whole body felt sick. I'm just like the rest of them. Monsters, who know every statistic, every detail about the tributes. Who has nothing better to do then to sit back and enjoy these sick Games.

Katniss, she did something right. Me, I'm nothing. Her son was the supposed next Victor of the Games. But think about it. If he were to die, there would be instant uproar from all of the Districts, a reason to fight. If we stacked everything against him, the capitol would get all pouty lipped.

But, what if he did win? It's like a big slap in the face to the rebels. Everything they are against, the Games, Kellen goes and wins, agrees to, goes along for the ride. There'd always be an excuse to follow him around with a camera. The son of the most notorious two rebels wins the Games! Let's see how he is living! They'd never go away. The Capitol would always have a cover to come in and watch them.

Dead Kellen, pissed off Katniss and Peeta who want someone to pay. Mainly Katniss. She'll kill anyone. Just see what happened after her sister died.

Alive Kellen, Katniss is just relieved, still pissed, but the drive isn't the same.

Suddenly, a knock came at my door. I sat up, smoothing out the wrinkles in my clothes. I checked my face in the mirror, wiping away some stray tears. Smile, I thought as I widened out the corners of my mouth.

Swinging open the door, I found an Avox waiting for me. He held out a note. Oh, god, Theo.

I took the paper carefully, nodding my thanks. Maybe, if I didn't run away, I could have protected him. Him and my baby sister.

But it's too late for that. In bold print I found the bold type print of my name. **Gamemaker Margaret Fulton. **Unfolding the little note revealed the neat, light handwriting of President Frost.

_Fulton, meet me in the dining hall tonight, 12, sharp. And please, bring your book._

My jittering hand fanned the paper against the other, the light note slicing a small paper cut into my hand. It stung, but nothing compared to the other pains in the rest of my body.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm falling too deep into this role. All I am is playing a character. Margaret Fulton, the daughter of Brendon and Mariah Fulton. Who nearly died from a bad case of pneumonia when she was thirteen.

In actuality, she did die. But they kept that quiet, as well as the runaway they took in to take her place.

Way back when, I used to mumble my name to myself at night to remind myself who I truly was. And I would only think of how I could never be her again.

I laughed softly under my breath. "I'm Evangeline Ride. And I'm a monster."

**This was fun. Any way, going on vacation for about a week. I wouldn't be able to get my hands on a computer in the period of time, so this is what you got for awhile.**


	29. Explosion!

**Apparently, I _do_ have internet connection (cue old timey applause). YAY! Ha, now you're stuck with me even more. I've been writing a POV an evening. (P.S. Chinatown scared me...)**

_**Drale Shetler, District 10 Tribute**_

I woke up and the first thing I became aware of; the stones weren't blowing. Instantly, my sanity creaked back into place, my thoughts clear and precise. Robyn, I realized, sat just outside the Cornucopia, staring up at the sky. Right before entering the arena, she cut her hair short, and her pale skin glowed slightly in the light of the a little bit less than full moon.

Walking out, I gazed up along side her. The kid from Eleven's face glowed out above us before the night faded again.

"Whoelse is gone?" I asked, crouching down next to Robyn. She seemed it a little startled but mute.

"Jayden's dead. Along with Quint, and the girls from 5 and 7." I could understand her being a little distraught after Jayden's death. It such feels weird. Me, honestly, didn't expect Tanya to die any time soon. If anything, I'd expect me to die first. But you never know.

We stared in silence before the resounding blare of trumpets thundered out. My heavy eyes flickered up. Message time.

My mind whirred as I took in what was being said. Yes, we're pretty sure we know we're alive. Yes, those were mutts. Yes, there's a Feast, even though it's kind of early in the Games, and Ms. Achene and Mr. Shetler should run.

Wait. Holy shi-

Robyn tugged me back and that small movement may have saved our lives (for now). Because just that second, a trembling occurred in the ground, followed by the flames and shattering sound of an explosion. The ground left my feet underneath me, and reclaimed my back with a hard impact. I coughed, and I was pretty sure there was some speckling of blood in there. The ringing in my ears echoed off and the night sky glared a murderous red above my head.

Robyn's head rested on my chest, and for the slightest of moments, I worried she may not be alive. But after a rattling breath of smoky air swept into my lungs, I layed my head back down, only slightly relieved.

I stroked her short blonde strands, trying to keep hold of consciousness. We just layed there, the smell of smoke and burning hair (and maybe scorched metal) drifting about, the sparks of flame dancing in the corner's of our vision.

I sat up, Robyn's head plopping down into my lap. "Stay with me!" I shouted, my voice sounding far away. I managed to shuffle a couple of feet away, leaning against a nearby tree.

"Are we still alive?" Robyn asked, her voice raw and raspy. Her arms were wrapped tightly around my waist from me pulling us away. I propped her up, head limp like a ragdoll, falling tiredly on my shoulder.

I nodded. "Yeah," I said mutely. "Woo, fucking, hoo."

_**Filler Charlesworthe, District 4 Tribute**_

Upon hearing the mention of a Feast, me and Cadette locked eyes. From so far off, we could still feel the rumbling of some sort of explosion. Dammit, sounds like it wasn't so lethal.

We stood, scooping up what make shift weapons we had and darted off. The stones were gone, to my great relief, but finding the Cornucopia would be a little harder. For me, not so much, once we found a familiar route.

My sights landed on a gnarled, knobby willow. A rough hour and maybe little less than a half had passed, and from this point, the golden horn was not too far off.

Branches and thorns tore at my jeans, the dark lighting sending false scares and shadows across my vision. Grabbing hold of a thin tree, I swung around, the rough bark stabbing my palm, but I didn't quite care. This is where the blood will be shed. And it sure as hell won't be mine.

Suddenly, a cannon fired. For a moment, I skid to a stop, Cadette slamming in behind me. Enough force sent us falling.

"Ow," Cadette whined on top of me, her head resting on that spot between my shoulder blades. "Thanks for stopping."

"Thanks for paying attention where you're going." We kind of just layed there, not really in the mood to stand again. I eased myself onto my back, Cadette flipping onto her back next to me.

"I'll get up if you do," Cadette puffed, the cold air fogging her breath. A curious little idea popped into my head.

"Really?" I said, twisting my head and raising an eyebrow. "Fine."

I rolled onto my knees, straddling over Cadette while pinning her arms to either side of her. She bucked her head, beret smacking my face. Damn, that thing got some distance.

I leaned down, shifting her arms so they were on either side of her head. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Kiss me, and I'll let you up. That, or I'll crush your lungs. Take your pick."

Cadette glared at me. "If the lungs is the easy way then just kill me know. And why the hell would I kiss you?"

I smiled. "I know it'll make you squirm. Come on, just one little kiss for your dear friend, Filler." I lowered my face, feeling her breath. My voice dropped. "If you really didn't want to kiss me, you would have managed to have gotten up by now."

Her blue eyes glanced behind me, flashing nervously. "Really, let's just get to the Cornucopia."

Finally, it fell into place. A crooked grin inched across my face. "Wait, I get it. You've never kissed any one." I let go, dropping over onto my side. Heavy, loud laughter echoed out among the woods.

"I have!" she screamed, but too fast, and a blush crept into her cheeks. "Just shut up!"

"Cadette's never kissed any one! Cadette's never kissed any one!" I singsonged. My sides were hurting now. "She'll die sad and alone!"

Suddenly, the girl leapt forward. Great, she's going to kill me now.

I opened my mouth to speak, but found her lips pressed to mine. A little sloppy, but still nice. I layed my hands on her hips, pulling her in. Cadette obviously had no idea what to do. Eventually, she pulled away.

"There, now I have," she said, standing and dusting herself off. "Now, let's go."

She marched off through the woods. I sat there, mouth agape like an idiot.

"Meow," I finally managed out.

**_Trey Canter, District 7 Tribute_**

From the moment they announced the Feast, I knew there'd be blood. It's the bloodbath that never happened.

Brooke and I instantly jumped up. A sinister smile danced on her lips, and I could practically imagine the other Career group doing the same thing. We started off wandering down the cliff. My stomach was rumbling from the thought of a Cornucopia full of food. Weapons, and toys.

A decent hour passed and Brooke tugged my arm. "We need to go that way," she pointed off, leaning on my arm. I shook my head.

"No, I'm pretty sure we go this way," I stated, ripping my arm away.

She shook her blonde curls. "Um, Trey, I'm positive we go the other way. You were too busy watching me to pay attention." I turned, facing her. This bitch was serious.

"You, my dear, must be mistaken, since you grew up in lively sunny District Four, which, by far as I know, has some lack of tree. I," I gestured towards myself, "was toughened and grown in District 7, which the main product is lumber. Lumber, if you don't really remember, my beautiful blonde, is from trees, which surround all of my district."

She stared at me before her jaw dropped. "Are you suggesting that I'm stupid?"

I smirked, flicking one of her short curls. "Well I ain't suggesting you're smart, that's for sure."

"Excuse me, then," she said haughtily. "I didn't realize you were so specialized in trees." She crossed her arms, waiting for me to answer.

"Just leave everything to me, sweetheart. Wouldn't want your little misguided head getting us lost." I started to turn when I heard it. Unmistakable and small; a sniffle.

I spun around, seeing Brooke's eyes glisten. "Why are you crying?" My left eye twitched.

"I am not," she retorted, her voice breaking and a small tear breaking through. She wiped it away, running a hand through her hair.

"Just stop, okay?" I demanded. "Really." Her eyes stared daggers off into the distance, more breaking away. Soft little sobs rumbled in her chest. Brooke then dropped her arms, reaching out and kissing me. I tried to answer but she was too rushed, the salty taste of tears making me wrench away.

I wrinkled my nose, wiping her drool away. "Brooke, just shut up, and stop the damn crying. We need to find the Cornucopia, the other four really hate our asses."

"Just, you love me, right?" I flinched away, taken aback by this question.

"Um, yeah, whatever, now let's go." I stepped away, but Brooke just latched onto my wrist.

"Say you love me. Say you'll never leave me."

I laughed. This girl had to be fucking kidding me. "Um, yeah, Brooke, don't kid yourself." Her face seemed to crumple. "I like you, and the past few days have been, well, really awesome, but these are the Hunger Games, one of us are gonna end up dead, and it sure as hell won't be me."

Her bottom lip quivered, and she pulled me in. "No, you're just acting stupid." A loud sob uttered out of her.

"Brooke, just-" She broke away, crossing her arms around her, hugging herself.

"Great. You think it. You think I'm a fat, ugly bitch."

"Brooke-"

"I'm nothing to you. I'm just a nobody." She sobbed harder, raking a hand through her tangled hair. "No one loves me. Not my mother, not even the Capitol. They just think I'm a fat, ugly-"

"I said shut it!" I roared. An angry surge of adrenaline rushed through my veins. I swung, my vision blurring in a haze. The sounds of screaming and an unsettling _crack_ rang out, followed by silence.

Then the world shifted back into place. I rubbed my hands, finding a dark sticky liquid on it. I wiped the dirt from my face, and my stomach dropped as I examined Brooke.

Her body lay limp at the foot of a tree, red blood leaking from the back of her head. A line of blood smeared down the bark to where she lay, her curls darkening. I stepped back, hearing a loud _Boom! _For just a second, my mind flashed to a bloodied Dia, her vacant eyes still managing to stare daggers into me.

Brooke just looked sad and alone.

What the hell did I just do? I shook my head.

She would have died any way. I still had to win. The girl was just dragging me down. Turning, I walked off into the night. I'm always right, bitch. No one will ever question me again.

**_Tanya Ride, District 10 Tribute_**

More deaths in the sky. I hate the Capitol. I hate these Games. It's weird to think my life could just be over. Go straight to jail, do not pass go. Game Over, womp, womp, womp, woooomp. Dead end, and no returns. I'll never laugh with Megan again, never see the dusty grounds of District 10, never see the Avox known as my brother again. All those things I don't know, I'll never get to find out about.

Arianne sat, leaning her head against the stone wall. Off in the distance, I could see two figures running. Probably off to the Cornucopia. The place was just begging for bloodbath. First instinct had been to just stay. I could fight pretty well, and we had plenty of food.

But then I thought differently. It was that strange feeling I get sometimes in the back of my head. Megan calls it my "sixth sense."

I looked back at Arianne. "We're going to the Feast I stated." Her eyes flared up at me, the look of confusion and terror in her face. That's the first reaction I've gotten from her in the past some odd days.

"What? Why?"

"We just need to go. Trust me." I offered a hand out towards her, but she shuttered away.

"Looks like we're doing this the hard way." Arianne may have been a year older than me, but she was a little shorter, and a little lighter. Plus, I had a little bit better strength than most girls my age.

Grunting, I heaved her up, tossing her over my shoulder. The girl reacted with nothing, hanging limply on me. Her dark head bumped against my back.

"One agreement," Arianne called. "Let me stay out of the way." Reasonable enough.

**More deaths...**

**Rimmer Kamerman, District 2**

**Nicholas Calloway, District 3**

**Brooke Liam, District 4. **_Death by cracked skull, caused by Asshat_

**Kaeden Whitrow, District 5**

**Dia Lockhart, District 5**

**Reeda "Ree" Kails, District 7**

**Quinten Wilkens, District 9**

**Jayden Crush, District 11**

**_My "Mutant Games" is up. Go, go, go!_**


	30. Let's Play A Game

**You guys should have seen my face. Because, okay, I open up my email thinking, "Hey, I'll probably have 5, 6 tribute forms, and some notifications on reviews. Maybe, at the most 15 email alerts.**

**And you know what? I get 28 emails! So, just thanks, all of you. Still, get around to sending your tribute in for the Mutant Games. Spots are going fast. I need male tributes, lots of them.**

**A third of the tributes are dead. And you won't believe how this all ends.**

_**Allie Manson, District 8 Tribute**_

"I'm coming." The other two looked at me uncertainly, exchanging brief glances.

"Allie, you're still healing," Kyla said softly.

"And we don't want you to get any more hurt," Rocker added.

I shook my head, pushing myself up into a standing position. Hopefully, they didn't mark my wince of pain while moving. "I'm the oldest. I'm not letting a twelve year old and a thirteen year old take all of the responsibility. I can stand, I can fight." My eyes widened in a solicitous manor. "Please, anything that happens to you two will be on my conscious."

Kyla chewed her lip, while Rocker gave a tired sigh. "Fine. But stay low."

We weren't far off from the Cornucopia. By what had been announced, I'm guessing two tributes had been nearby the structure. The three of us had watched the edges of the explosion with awfully wide, glistening eyes. The sky had glowed a deep, crimson red, the stars a bright, glaring ruby color. We sat there staring for a good twenty minutes, before Kyla and Rocker began debating on what to do. We were already behind by fourty minutes.

About a half-hour walk later (we probably would have gotten there sooner if I wasn't injured), we arrived. No one in sight.

Breathing in, the remaining scent of smoke stayed, tickling at my nose. The flutes had stopped, the stone structures completely gone. But in there place was something entirely else, in its own category of disturbing.

I hobbled around the perimeter, examining the new stone figures. Perturbing visuals, they were, and the chills running down my back didn't make it any better.

I'm being annoying, aren't I? Well, seven of the places where the stones had been were stone figures of the dead tributes. There faces were set in, I guess, their usual manor. Three's thoughtful position, pushing his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose. Dia, from Five, smirking with a certain swing to her hip. The girl from Seven, her eyes staring off spacily. Quint's mouth open wide, leaning forward eagerly, explaining yet another-

_Boom!_

The surprise of it made me jump, losing my balance and crashing to the ground with a painful "oomph!" Kyla and Rocker spun around. My irritation couldn't help but flare.

"I'm okay!" I shouted, shakily propping myself up. "Stop babying me, I'm older than you, considerably! Just did you find anything useful?" Rocker began speaking, but the grinding sound of rock against metal made us all wince and twist around. A new stone rose up from the ground.

Standing hurriedly, I limped towards the new stone.

Strangely enough, it was a Career. The girl from Four. She winked mischievously at me, blowing a kiss. Her beautiful face, never to be seen from again. I never really liked her, but you couldn't help but feel bad. Another dead soul, and so young.

A rustle in the leaves made jerk around. The list of possibilities of who it could be made me shiver. This night was a muggy one, no snow at all. I still shook.

A short, stocky boy, about my age, emerged. I stumbled backwards, into the stone Four girl. He seemed unarmed and stood there ready to run. But his eyes were blank of emotion, his face only showing the slightest concern.

The kid from Six, that was it. Wait, was he...oh, oh my.

His eyes transferred from me onto the Cornucopia. Widening, he dodged out of sight, an arrow landing just where he was standing.

"Shoot!" I heard Kyla mutter. I shook my head, clearing it of thoughts. Getting my hands on a knife, I wandered off into the woods with my two allies and friends, geared up and waiting.

Waiting for when the mayhem starts.

**_Westria Vise, District 1 Tribute_**

We slid into the opening. Cicadas chirped and mockingjay's sang. Soon, tributes were to scream.

Other tributes may have been here before. I can tell, by how some spots are just a little scattered. Pointing this out to Carson, he only shrugged. Her grabbed a decent sword, examining the blade before sliding it into the sheath and through his belt loop. In his hands were looped brass knuckles. My hands darted over supplies, munching an apple comfortably in my mouth. The sweetness of it and pure juiciness was the best thing I ate in days.

I smile flitted across my face as I took hold of a double sheath. Gripping the leather hilt, I slid one of the swords out easily. Shining, freshly sharpened dual swords. I tossed the strap over my shoulder, handling the blades gingerly. My old sword was strewn among other weapons and materials on the ground.

"Carson?" I smiled. He looked over from a stone he was examining. "This freakin' rocks."

His eyes darted back to the stone. My brow furrowed, my curiosity leading me to walk over. "What is-" I stopped in front of the sculpture. "Oh."

"All the figures," he gestured, "I think they're of the dead ones." Glancing around, I rolled my eyes. No shit, sherlock. But my attention was just brought back to the figure of Brooke.

"How do you think she died?" Carson shrugged. Of course he didn't know.

Suddenly, a twig snapped off in the distance. My head swung up, and my mouth pressed down hard into a thin line. Three.

She dashed to the Cornucopia, gathering what supplies she could grab and carry easily. Instantly, I sprinted after her. She wasn't much of a threat, physically, but that gadget she made...her brain can be deadly.

I took down the ground with ease. My muscles stretched happily, welcoming the familiar strain. Three ducked, the blade swooping over her head. She pulled a strange vine from her pocket, stumbling backwards. I unsheathed the second sword, sweeping it low for her waist.

Three jumped back, the sharp steel blades knicking her left thigh and a spot above her right knee. A red blotch of blood began to bloom on her jeans. Swiftly, she leapt towards me, wrapping the vine around my wrists, tugging hard.

Grunting with pain, I dropped my swords. Small, sharp thorns dug into skin. I yanked the vine, little droplets of blooding spurting from my wrists. By the time I looked up, she had sprinted across the path, disappearing into the trees.

"Dammit!" I yelled, sucking at my bleeding wrists. Grabbing my swords, I swept the perimeter, searching for other tributes. I could practically hear Trenton screaming at me to kill the first thing that comes into sight. The heat of battle brought his voice in.

_Stay on your toes. Don't let that little twerp get to your head. You'll kill her later._

I shook my head. "Get out!" Carson glanced over at me, but I just waved him off. I blinked, and suddenly, another figure was in sight. She emerged from the surrounding brush like a shadow.

"Tanya." But as soon as she appeared came someone more deserving of my attention. _Kill the fucking Asshat!_

Charging forward, Trey stopped short, smiling. "Oh, hey, Westy!" he called. "Ready to play?"

**_Arianne Misham, District 6 Tribute_**

Tanya sprinted across the path, and for a fraction of a moment, it seemed like the girl from One had her target set upon my ally. But the huge Asshat from Seven emerged, and any one could tell the two Careers had a bone to pick with each other.

A crawled up to a standing position, my hands aching from holding on so tight. This is why I don't climb trees.

It was still dark, and only the moon provided any lighting. Tanya already blended into the background easily, and my sights kept losing her. My focus became only on Tanya, which honestly was a stupid move.

"Here, kitty, kitty!" Instantly, I jumped, peeking through the trees. A Career, the blonde girl who always wears a hat, smiled up at me, weilding a deadly looking sort of sword. A saber? Didn't really matter what it was called, all taht counted was that I knew she could kill me with it.

I started climbing out on the limb, balancing myself carefully to make it to the other tree, when a second person popped into sight. The trident in his hand made it very apparent what district he was from. He rapped it against the branch, making it shake and jitter.

"Come on," he called. "If your good we'll make your death painless. Gentleman's promise." I landed on my bottom, my fingers wrapping hard around the thick branch before I fell. My butt skittered backwards, my back pressed up against the main tree trunk. Options...none, whatsoever.

The girl from Two, my heart dropped watching it, grabbed onto the trunk, tugging herself up effortlessly. I latched onto another branch, pulling myself higher. My heart raced. I had no weapons, no other ways to run.

"Tanya!" I yelled, searching for her. "Tanya! Help!" My throat began to close up as Two climbed higher, laughing.

"Your mutant friend can't help you now," she chuckled. "Stop squirming."

My face felt hot, my nose running. "Tanya!" I nearly screamed. "Tanya! Any one!" I uttered out a sob. I climbed up another branch, still screaming. It took me a second to realize I had begun to call Dorian's name.

A cannon fired, and Two momentarily seemed distracted. The boy below us shouted something, leaving me with a chance to slip away. I glanced around, my eyes sweeping.

A hand clamped onto my shoulder. I screamed, and another hand wrapped around my mouth. I felt myself be hefted backwards. My capture scooted back on their bottom onto the next branch of another tree.

My screaming wouldn't stop but my attention seemed to slide back into focus.

"Shh," the voice whispered. "It's okay, you're okay." My hand wrapped over the hand covering my mouth and my stomach twisted up in a knot. It had remanants of blood on it. The Careers were right there, and searching for me.

"They're over there!" Four shouted, swinging the pronged weapon around to point towards me.

"Forget the lovebirds! We have other tributes to get to." Lovebirds? My heart race spead up, but the knot loosened. The person holding me pulled me close, his voice soothing my nerves.

A loud sigh of slight relief breathed out of his lungs, making my body sink back into him. I twisted around to find Dorian's light blue eyes staring at me. As my tension eased, the boy inched away, letting me go.

"Stay alive, okay?" he said. He began to climb down the tree, finally dropping down onto the grass. I shook my head, finding my voice.

"D-Dorian?" I called, the anxiety sawing away at me. My friend glanced up, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, Arianne?" he said, ducking behind the tree. I climbed down, but my body shook so much I slipped. Dorian's eyes flared wide in alarm, the first emotion I've seen in him so far. With what strength I had (which wasn't very much), I dangled limply from the branch, kicking wildy. Pulling myself up...again, why I don't climb trees.

I dropped down, expecting to fall hard on the ground, but instead landed ontop of, you guess it, Dorian. By what I gather, it had been a valiant attempt at catching me. I propped myself up, sitting on Dorian's lap. He rubbed his head, his hair creeping into a morbid red color.

"Oh, gosh, what did I do?" I cried, my fingers dancing across his scalp, searching for the wound.

He pushed my arms away. "It's alright, it's just an old cut I got that opened up again, no big deal." His tone was monotonous and blunt. Not my Dorian.

Wait. Did I just say _my _Dorian?

I shrugged the thought off. Whatever. I just need to take care of him. Scrambling to my feet, I tugged him a few feet back. Yanking my jacket off, I leaned in closer. I needed something to stop the bleeding, a giant leaf or...the t-shirt that will do.

My hands were at the hem of my collar, tugging at it, when Dorian's face blushed all the way down to crimson. He grabbed my hands, pushing them away.

"What?" Dorian simply pulled off his own wool coat, slipping off the stained white shirt.

"Here," he said, tossing me the fabric. "Use mine."

"Oh," I said, then stared at his bare chest. _"Oh."_ I shook my head, smiling innocently. "Sorry, didn't think about that." Wiping my face, I found it warm and wet.

"Dorian?" He raised his eyes up. "I'm sorry." After a long pause, in which my friend just looked away, I pulled his chin back towards me.

My first instinct kicked in, and I leaned forward, kissing him. Obviously a surprise, he flinched back a little, but leaned back in.

Another cannon fired, but we didn't pull away.

**I'll do death toll next chapter, when this bit is over.**


	31. Oh, Tanya

**Ha, I'm happy. Never make fun of your little sister, boys and girls, because she may one day come to the age to make a snappy remark back. Hee hee, I win.**

**_Kyla Sprit, District 9 Tribute_**

We ducked behind the bush, watching the tributes begin to swarm in. An elusive Tanya narrowly dodged over Trey's battle ax as it soared over her head, smashing into the Cornucopia. Hey, I never realized he was a lefty. I'm a lefty. I used to bump elbows with Quint while eating dinner.

My heart clenched up. Quint's dead. I'll never bump elbows with him again.

I plucked at the bow string, feeling the pull of it in my hands. Just pull, aim, release. Twelve years old, and possibly a murderer. Rocker watched from next to me, keeping Allie out of sight. She argued tooth and nail about it, but we were keeping her safe.

"Guys," Allie called. Rocker waved over his shoulder.

"Allie, keep quiet."

Her voice clenched tight. "Guys, turn, run!" Her voice ended on a high squeaky note. My eyes widened, turning but I found a sword pressed to Rocker's throat. And in one swift movement, he was gone.

I wanted to scream. Allie, leapt forward, a second too late, onto the girl from Two -Cadette, was it? My ally tugged onto her throat, but Cadette threw her off with ease.

She swung her curved sword over Allie in a teasing manor. No, not Allie.

Balancing on the balls of my feet, I surged forward, using as much thrust as I could to shove her down. The girl slammed into me, because it must have felt like nothing to her, and we sprawled to the ground. Cadette easily rolled over, sitting ontop of me. I was trapped.

"Sorry, little hero," she said. Her expression was gaunt, and business-like. "But it has be done." In the corner of my eye, I saw Allie's tortured face, flash forward.

Cadette raised the sword, thrusting it downwards.

It didn't even hurt that much. Little tendrils of pain flitted off, but I mainly felt numb.

Cadette stood just as Allie snatched onto her leg. Swinging her sword, she cut a long, deep gash into Allie's side. She winced, falling to the ground next to me. My vision was fading and I felt like I was staring down a tunnel.

"Are they dead?" A boy's voice came in with.

"They soon will be." The sound of feet cracking twigs and under brush thundered off, most likely searching for a new target.

Allie's light brown hair and blue eyes swan into my vision. She grabbed my hand, and I felt her shaking.

A smile creeped onto my face. "Promise me you'll win?"

"No, we'll help you," Allie sobbed, stroking my head. "There must be something in the Cornucopia." Warmth trickled onto my hands, the heavy stream of blood leaking onto my hand from Allie's arm. I shook my head.

"Allie, please win. For me and Rocker." Her face was fading fast. "You're a fighter. Win for all of us. Kiss Bentley for me." Allie said something else but I couldn't hear it. My eyes closed, welcoming the vast comfort of darkness.

**_Teagan Aniston, District 12 Tribute_**

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the Feast?" Kellen simply shrugged.

"It's just a bloodbath waiting to happen. Or happening right now." The sounding of a cannon pretty much drove his point home. We were clsoe enough we could hear the cling of metal against metal and screaming. "We have everything we need already. No worries."

"Yeah, no worries," I repeated. "Can I ask you something?"

He shrugged again. "Depends."

I tugged my pigtail nervously. "Why do you hate the whole 'Kellen Mellark' thing?" Strangely enough, he laughed.

"Easy; how would feel trying to meet the standards brought down upon you by your rebel, larger then life, parents? Those expectations and dramatizing people bring to you?"

"I guess it would be annoying." Kellen just shook his head.

"You're all the same, I swear. None of you understand."

A little pit of anger began to build in the pit of my stomach. "Then make me understand, Mr. Kellen Mellark."

His eyes narrowed and he stood, scowling down upon me. "See, right there. Can't I just be Kellen, for one day? Not the suave, dreamy, Kellen Mellark, who's such the son of the most incredible rebels in history. No, I can't. People will only ever see me for the person I've been made to be. All my life, not one person has called me Kellen at school. It was either, 'That Mellark Kid' or 'Kellen Mellark' or 'Peeta and Katniss' Son.' Sometimes, I even despise being they're kid."

I tugged his hand, pulling him back down, stubbornly. "Have you ever talked about this with any one?"

He shook his head, staring off. "Who would I talk to? My parents?"

I shrugged. He had a point. "How was growing up in your house?"

Kellen rolled his eyes. "What do you want, my life story?"

Way to be a jerk about it, I thought. The frown came right back to my face. "You don't have to share it if you don't want to. I'm human, and surely don't like being talked down to by a bitter kid." I braced myself for the Kellen's next tirade but he just looked at me with sad grey eyes.

"I'm sorry. It's just...hard, talking about it. I remember visiting my Mom and Dad. How, when I walked into the kitchen, Dad would be standing there, gripping the chair, shaking, holding back his screams." He clenched and unclenched his fists. "How, when I had a bad dream, I had to crawl into my sister's bed, because my Mom was already screaming from her own."

Kellen, as if it were a reflex, covered his ears, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Kellen, you're okay," I said. A creak in the trees made us jerk back, staring up. His hand wrapped around his bow, notching an arrow in one fluid motion. He pulled back, and released.

A girl screamed. And then the buzzing began. Tracker Jackers.

Instantly, I skittered back, my breathing quick and short. Oh, no, oh, no.

A petite figure dropped from the trees. Kellen pulled back the bowstring. The girl dodged back out of sight, but the hum of bees continued.

"Kellen, we need to go," I squeaked.

He nodded. "Sounds like trackers. Yeah, let's go." My limbs trembled as we skirted out of the way. They won't get you.

The buzz traveled on, and in the dim light, I saw a swarm emerge. The girl must have woken them up. "Run!" I screeched, darting off.

One sting, and I was dead. One little sting.

"Teagan!" Kellen yelled. Blindly, I charged on. "Not that way!"

And just as the words registered, I ran right out into the clearing.

The last thing I saw was a deadly looking sword be raised over my head, the boy from One staring at me with his ever blank expression.

**_Robyn Achene, District 11 Tribute_**

"So, should we go?" Drale asked. We were a good fifty feet away from the Feast, and sitting on a very rough log. My ass was already killing me. Injuries, killing me too. Random ass explosions suck, you know?

"Eh, we're gonna die any way, why not now?" Drale shrugged.

"Very true. Any last wishes?"

I raised an eyebrow at this suggestion. "You serious? I'm taking you seriously." Drale paused for a good long moment before nodding in a very slight motion. "Okay then."

Standing, I raised a hand, bringing it hard across Drale's face. Then, in his dazed, shocked moment, I took hold of his face, kissing him. The last time I kissed a boy; back when I was 12, and it had been during a super dorky game of spin the freakin' bottle. Oliver Stokes even drooled a bit.

Drale stared at me, awfully confused. "What the fuck was that?"

I smiled happily, plopping back down next to him. "Well, one of my last wishes; slap a person with a funny accent, then kiss them all dramatically like in one of those old soap operas on TV."

"Um, okay. And you haven't gotten the chance before?" he said, rubbing his red cheek.

"Well, _duh,_" I mused. "But I'm not kissing a Capitol person. Especially Caesar Flickerman." Shutters ran down my back just thinking about it. Drale chuckled lightly.

"My accent isn't _that _funny," he stated sorely. "It's just your basic Ten accent."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm from Eleven, which makes it funny to me." He rolled his eyes, standing. "This doesn't mean anything you know," I stated, back handing his arm.

"Thank goodness," he muttered. I would have been more offended if I wasn't so proud.

He made a joke. Yay!

**_Tanya Ride, District 10 Tribute_**

Is it weird to be enjoying the scene myself? When the people fighting really have no conscious, it is like watching animals fight. Escaping from the top of the Cornucopia wasn't exactly an option at the moment.

I hope Arianne was okay. I left her on her own and...just be okay Ari. And Dorian, wherever he may be.

Trey and Westria were at each other's throats. This was a hardcore battle. Swing of an axe, duck with a swipe of the swords. Both were bloodied and awfully sweaty, but neither going down that easy.

I waddled down the Cornucopia, taking hold of the twirrled tip. Dashing out from the trees came the girl from Twelve. As soon as she skidded to a stop, Carson, I think, came down with a sword. The sight of it made my stomach churn and I really _did _lose my lunch. Oh, whoops.

"Sorry, Trey!" I called. He looked up angrily at me, but that action earned him a bloody slice across his chest. He didn't even wince, just spinning around and slicing at Westria.

Kellen Mellark stumbled into the clearing and his eyes widened at Teagan's carcus. "Dammit!" he bellowed.

Pulling back his arrow, he took aim of Carson. I winced as the arrow drove home. Another cannon fired. By his expression flamed with fury and he instantly took aim again. At me.

I ducked down, but holding onto the tip of the Cornucopia, a unexpected gas started spewing. It smelled awful and my head began to spin from the scent of it.

The spray kept spewing, spreading out among tributes.

"Stop!" I screamed, smacking the pipe uselessly.

And bodies started dropping. Is this stuff lethal? Why aren't I dead yet? Westria and Trey swung weakly at each other before face planting the ground. Girl from Two, and teh boy from Four landed in a dazed pile on the ground, another girl weakly creeping from the woods laying motionless. Crap, what I do?

Soon, I couldn't tell the dead from the living, only by the splotches of red in the worse spots giving away any hints. Drale had stumbled in, looking around, very confused, with the girl from Eleven.

They dropped as well.

The ground below shuttered, and it seemed the whole arena began to sink. Staring up, I saw that it was only a certain perimeter of it. Dirt and solid metal surrounded me, and a firey explosion lit up the land that was above us. One final cannon fired, any one who had not come to the Feast.

The girl from Three. She had run away from it.

My eyes fluttered, than closed shut. I hope Ari is okay.

**The blood of innocents cover the land...**

**Carson Drox, District 1. **_Killed by an arrow, shot by Kellen_

**Rimmer Kamerman, District 2**

**Nicholas Calloway, District 3**

**Violet Calloway, District 3. **_Killed in explosions upon the arena sinking_

**Brooke Liam, District 4 **

**Kaeden Whitrow, District 5**

**Dia Lockhart, District 5**

**Reeda "Ree" Kails, District 7**

**Rocker Tripp, District 8. **_Throat slit by Cadette_

**Quinten Wilkens, District 9**

**Kyla Sprit, District 9. **_Stabbed in the stomach by Cadette_

**Jayden Crush, District 11**

**Teagan Aniston, District 12. **_Killed by Carson's sword to the head._

**Eleven left. But who will die?**


	32. Losing It

**I was hoping to get this out yesterday, but ended up getting pulled into doing something I really didn't want to do. And it isn't smart to ask questions throughout the entirety of the movie, because, possibly, your friend actually wants to _watch _the movie. I swear, I almost threw the girl through a wall. **

**Lack of sleep+night in your friend/annoying girl's freezing ass bedroom listening to crappy music+PMS= twitchy, annoyed writer. Sorry about ranting, just, need to blow off some steam.**

_**Cadette Flinch, District 2 Tribute**_

Opening my eyes, I saw dirt above my head. Am I dead? Or buried in my coffin? No, then I wouldn't see the dirt. Sitting up, I saw a deep tunnel, torches lighting the way at even intervals. At the end, a grate kept us seperated from the rest of what lay beyond it.

Filler sat next to me rubbing his head. "Ah, she awakens." He wore a new, fresh grey t-shirt and sweat pants of the same material. It reminded me of a prison drab. Looking down, I realized I wore the same thing, with a beret on top. Same grey material, too.

"Where'd the new clothes come from?" I asked.

"Oh, they're were set in a pile nearby. I took the liberty to change you when you were sleeping," he stated slyly with a wink.

"You better be kidding me, asshole," I growled, tugging his collar. He raised his hands defensively.

"Don't kill me, just kidding." I dropped the fabric, tugging my beret tighter onto my head. Great, more people I don't know looking at me naked. "No sense of humor, I swear."

Rolling my eyes, I stood. There was enough room that even Filler had enough room to stand. Behind us, a neat little pile of usable weapons and supplies were stacked. Above that was a TV screen placed into the tunnels wall.

It flickered to life. The face of our lovely Gamemaker Fulton flashed on, smiling.

"Good, you're all awake," she said. Gee, thanks for waking me Filler. "Now that you are, I'll explain what happens now."

"All your wounds have been healed. You have all the weapons you could desire. You have several rations to last you and your company days. Now all you have to do is hunt. No tricks to watch out for, no traps. Just hunt. And to remind you of who's still alive-"

Her face cut away, coming to a scene of the Cornucopia. Filler stepped up next to me, gripping my hand in his. One, two, three...five people dead. And one of them Carson. That means both Westy and Trey are on their own. The cannon before the start of the battle must have been Brooke's.

The screen flashed to a list of names and picture. Thirteen of them were crossed out. Eleven remained. The screen went on to darken again.

My eyes trailed down to Filler's hand. "What are you doing?'

Filler shrugged. "Holding a pretty girl's hand." I pulled away, scowling at him. "Ah, there's the look I've come to know and love." I tried to relax my face, but it just tensed up again. Filler chuckled.

"You know, you looked cute when you were sleeping. All innocent."

I snorted with laughter. "Oh really?"

"Yeah. You kept talking too. Oh, Filler, you're so dreamy," he sighed, doing a girly imitation of my voice.

Opening my mouth with a witty comeback, the rattling sound of metal cutting me off. We turned our heads, looking to see the grate rise up. Our passage way was free. Filler lifted up his trident.

"Let's go kill some tributes."

**_Tanya Ride, District 10 Tribute_**

It was nice having the group together. Dorian is actually a very interesting person, once you get to know him. Waking up, I found Dorian and Arianne passed out asleep. Dorian woke up not long after.

He shook his head, and blinked twice, as if trying to remember what happened. A small smile crossed his lips, and by that, I guessed he and Arianne had reconciled.

"Uh, hi," he greeted, waving in a small gesture. "I'm Dorian."

A smile couldn't help but light up my face. True, it was the first time we've actually introduced ourselves. "Tanya. Are you and Ari..."

He smiled wider, but a little shy. "Uh, yeah. We made up in the Feast." I clapped excitedly. I'm a sucker for any kind of love story.

"Good, we needed you. Arianne was starting to sort of lose it," I whispered, my face becoming serious.

Dorian's face became grim too. "Yeah, I know the feeling." He paused, putting out a hand. "Thanks for everything, Tanya. You've done so much, you truly are an amazing friend." I smiled, a spurt of happiness spreading through me. I took his hand gratefully.

"We're in this together," I stated.

"To the end." We sat in silence, our minds wandering. Soon, Arianne began stir from her sleep. Her big eyes opened, taking in her surroundings.

"Am I dead?" she asked. Dorian smiled, kissing her softly on the nose.

Yeah, it was nice having everyone together. We will all die soon enough, but the time now was good. Arianne was a lot more calm, I guess from the tunnels being more compact and small. Our items consisted of several small kives, a sickle, and a whip. I always hated the loud cracking sound the last item always emited. But I did know how to use it, and I accepted it somberly as we began our journey. Soon, the other two began to get into this one conversation that caught my attention.

"Really, it's no big deal," Arianne laughed, rolling her eyes.

Dorian chewed his lip. "It doesn't faze you at all?" I turned, stopping in place.

"What doesn't faze you?" Dorian coughed uncomfortably, clearing his throat. Arianne smirked.

"Well, during the Feast, I had fallen ontop of Dorian and this cut had opened up on his head." Dorian's face became noticably redder as she went on. "And to stop the bleeding, I needed some sort of material to wrap around his head. So I started tugging off my shirt but Dorian just gave me his."

"It doesn't get to you at all?" he asked, his face in disbelief. I held back my own laughter.

"Well, my father's a herb specialist, and a doctor. I've come with him on occasions, mainly rainy days, and obviously, I've seen people naked. Being naked and seeing naked people doesn't really effect me."

Dorian just stood there. "Really? So you've possibly seen people I know naked." His face paled. "Wait, doesn't Unse's family use your dad as a doctor sometimes, when there's a shortage in medicine?" His voice ended on a very high, non-masculine note.

Of course, how could you not laugh at this? Dorian just shook his head.

"You're siding with her?" he demanded. Arianne began cracking up herself, and we both, after so many days of craziness and stress, just let loose.

"No," I said through a chuckle. "The idea of seeing someone naked creeps me out too. But listening to you two is just awesome." Dorian raised his finger triumphantly.

"Ha, see?"

Wiping away a tear, I finally breathed again. "But you are a fine gentleman, Dorian. Ten hospitality, as we'd say." For a long moment, we just stood there, smiling stupidly to ourselves. Then a thought struck me.

"There's medicine shortages in District Six?" I asked. They produce the product, how can they become sick from no medicine?

The two District Six residents exchanged glances. "Well, we're technically not allowed to take any of the medicine home. The Capitol quota needs to be met before we can use any. And even when we do meet the quota, which never happens, the Peacekeepers and Mayor and more important residents get it first." Dorian shrugged. Neither of them were actually involved in manufacturing the goods but it still seemed to hit home hard.

"Six is one of the sickest districts," Arianne added quietly. We continued on, quietly, our thoughts wandering. I couldn't help but ponder; did Dorian's family receive medicine, for being part of the creation of the Games?

My tension from the thought quickly dissipated at Dorian's next statement.

"But, really?"

**_Allie Manson, District 8 Tribute_**

I just layed there, staring at the ceiling. A long, jagged scar ran up my arm, but it was barely visible. My mind swam, and even after the TV had turned on, I still didn't stand.

Both Rocker and Kyla were dead. Because of me.

If I had moved a little faster, I could have pushed the girl off, shouted a little louder, he would have heard me. Kyla, if Two had just killed me faster, she could have run away.

My allies, my friends, so young, so brave. Dead.

The stream of scarlett blood flooding from Rocker's open throat haunts my memory. My sleep had been dreamless, but mainly because the gas had made it that way. Tonight, I'll most likely be screaming.

Kyla's little body, curled up in a ball. _So much blood..._

The beret girl will pay. Beret will...freaking pay.

She killed my friends, my new found family. And I won't go down without a fight.

**_Westria Vise, District 1 Tribute_**

I'm on my own. There is not one person for me to turn to. Cadette and Filler? Probably kill me upon seeing me. Kellen? He put me in this situation, and is probably pissed that my ally killed his ally. Right now, Asshat was probably my best bet. And I swear, I will never become _that _desperate.

Only ten plus me tributes left. All of them healed and ready for the next day of battle, all equipped. I swayed with the movement of my sword, slicing it through the air.

_Whatcha gonna do, honey? If you've been nicer to daddy, he could have helped you._

I shook my head. The pressure has been crazy, and Trenton's voice keeps popping into my head. I just want it to stop. My tolerance for him...I don't have any, but his voice drove me nuts. Like the squeal of a loose wheel. Or nails on a chalkboard. Or listening to Trey not stop talking about himself.

It just kept going like that Capitol battery advertisement, with the little pink bunny banging the drum. His voice just keeps going and going and going...

"Westy, you're losing it," I murmured, beating my head against the tunnel's wall. "Westy, you just called yourself Westy." I slammed a tight fist against it, frustration building. "Dammit!"

True, all the other tributes were armed and at full health.

But so was I.

**_Kellen Mellark, District 12 Tribute_**

I pulled back on the bowstring experimentally. The pluck of it made a soft _thwunk_ sound, a sour note that stabbed at my head.

Besides Tanya, I was the youngest tribute left. It's a known fact that younger tributes don't stand as much of a chance. Honestly, puberty has only kicked in recently, but my voice at the very least isn't a squeaker.

I have other insecurities to dwell on. Other problems.

Teagan. A grim smile crossed my face. I told her everything, and she dies minutes later.

Did Mom and Dad watch that? Do they hate me, for sharing all that, to pretty much most of Panem. The scene, hopefully, is being pushed aside, the focus placed onto the Feast.

What death do they start talking to families? Ten or eight? Can't remember. I wonder who they'll ask for me.

I wonder who they would have interviewed if Teagan was still alive? =

Why wonder about that, though, Kellen? It won't happen.

Teagan, trust me, I'm not numb, I think she may have had a crush on me. Though, if it was the Mellark part, or the Kellen part, I will never know. She had been a friend, though, and her death just confused me. Why did she run?

A weird memory flashed into my mind, so distant, it had to be from when I was seven. A nest of tracker jackers had been nestled into one of the ceiling tiles. No one realized it was there until Pippa Hammelton accidentally hit it with her paint brush. The girl had quite the temper.

The teacher, who's name escapes me, spent three hours trying to get Teagan out from under the craft table, even after the nest was cleaned out. She had an allergy to them, one sting could kill.

One sting could kill. And I was acting so calm about it last night, or whenever the hell it happened. What day was it any way?

My life sucks.

**No deaths...**

**Still annoyed, but a little better. I hate asshats. Simple as that.**


	33. Turn Around, Creeper Dude

**I'm feeling better. The first day of school...*shivers* And I feel so bad for those kids that walk in and its like "Hey, I had your brother/sister! Hi (blank)'s brother/sister." I mean, that must suck. One kid, his brother seems to have been a legend, and another, he had three older brothers. I usually never get that (long story, since I do have an older brother).**

_**Cadette Flinch, District 2 Tribute**_

Filler's ears perked up at the first hint of it. Tucking his trident into the slash holder, he sprinted ahead. I slid my sword in the scabbard, rushing to catch up with him. He had a long pair of legs and was a pretty tall dude. And whatever he heard really caught his attention.

Finally he skidded to a stop, grinning happily. Not another goddamn waterfall. I could guess that it wasn't poisoned. We were as the spot right next to its opening, at the top. Filler's mouth moved, but I had no idea what he said.

His hands rubbed together in a gleeful manor.

A small staircase dug into the side of the cavernous area led down along the side on the area, down to a path running parallel to the stream running off from the fall. I splayed a hand out to him, shaking my head ruefully at his expression.

"Give me your stuff," I said, sighing heavily at the end. He raised an eyebrow at this. "Do you want to swim or not?" He thought for a moment before slipping his bags off his shoulders. But instead of continuing into the water, he snatched my beret.

"What the hell, give me it back!" I shouted, snatching up. He dangled it playfully over my head, and I slipped off my own packs, standing on my tip toes. He eased backwards, playing me like a bull and matadore. And before I knew it, as I lunged forward, he stepped back. My feet teetered on the edge before my weight shifted forward.

My anger raged, but the fear of free falling overpowered that. "Straighten your legs!" How the hell would that help? _Smack._

"Ooo..." Filler flinched. My face and stomach hit the water -hard- and I started falling under. How could I be so stupid! This was his plan, to get me to fall and pretty much drown me.

I struggled, thrashing around. Filler's face, so high up, laughed in its awful mocking expression. But as I sank, it shrunk down, his face dropping.

Water surrounded me, but I couldn't swim. Another splash sounded before the water world faded black. So freaking cold. I'm dying sad and alone. I will fucking kill Filler if I die.

**_Filler Charlesworthe, District 4 Tribute_**

Oh, shit. What did I do?

Messing with Cadette is fun. I can see the joy Rimmer had found in it. Though, he probably wouldn't have been stupid enough to send her flying off a cliff into water, which she didn't know how to swim in.

Upon seeing her head disappear, and not return, I dived down. Her body wasn't too far from the surface and I pulled her up, a dead weight in my arms. Hauling her limp body behind me, I made it onto shore. Cadette's blonde head dangled over my shoulder, her clothes soaking her through.

Bending over, my heart began to race as I heard no breathing. In District Four, everyone knows how to do CPR. It's a requirement for all eleven year old students to know how to if they want to pass Phsyical Education.

I went through the repititions, counting out the compressions on her chest before pinching her nose and breathing in air. Breathing out the third time, she began coughing, a spurt of water rattling out of her lungs. She heaved and coughed for awhile before looking at me. It was only a slight glare but she seemed to tired to argue.

Balling up her fist, she smacked my arm. "That's for stealing my beret and making me fall." She ran a hand through her wet hair, wringing out the end. Cadette inched forward and lifted her head up, giving me a peck on the cheek. In a low voice, she added grudgingly, "And that's for saving my ass."

I stared at her in disbelief. "I save your life...and that's all I get?" She frowned, confused. "I mean, I hop in, swim down, nearly die myself, and give you CPR. And that's it? A peck on the cheek?"

Cadette rolled her eyes, standing. "You're lucky I didn't bash your head into the wall."

I stood, stepping in front of the girl. "You're lucky I didn't let you drown." She rolled her eyes again, shivering slightly in the gesture. I bit my lip. "And it would be best to change out of those clothes. I don't need you catching a cold. There's an extra pair of clothes in the bags."

"Yeah, whatever." We strode up the steps, Cadette still a little weak. I pulled off my shirt, wringing the excess water from it. Cadette did the same, and I smirked slighted at her.

She glared pointing daggers at me. "Keep your eyes in their sockets, perv." Even though she had an extra change of a sports bra, she just grabbed for her dry shirt.

"I'm sorry," I stated seriously. "Really, you need to change, you'll get sick." I shuffled around, facing away and pulled on my own clean clothes. I ran a hand through my hair, acting like I was busy.

Cadette's fist slammed into the small of my back. I spun around, clutching the girl's wrist. My arms wrapped around her waist, leaning in next to her ear.

"I know every move you'll pull, hon. I know you like me. Don't hide it behind those glares and eye rolls." My voice was slightly menacing, but I got my point across. Cadette glanced down, her face flooding red. She tried to pull away but I just pulled her tighter. Her eyes tried to look anywhere but at me.

"You kissed me to get me to shut up," I cackled. "But I _know_ it wasn't just for that. You actually enjoyed it." Cadette swallowed hard.

"Not true," she mumbled.

I leaned closer to her ear, my lips brushing against it slightly. "Cadette. You're such a liar."

Her eyes finally looked at me. She rocked backwards but stood onto her tiptoes, lips kissing mine.

**_Drale Shetler, District 10 Tribute_**

"And as we continue down this long tunnel," Robyn muttered in a foreign accent. "We seem to find even more dirt. The travellers seem to be wearing thin, the female tribute muttering like a mad man." I was way to bored to tell her to stop, even though she's been talking like this for hours, at least, that's what I can tell. We were walking. That's it. I at the very least wanted to have something to do.

Finally I stopped. "Let's just break for camp." Without even another word, Robyn plopped down onto the ground, embracing the dirt with arms wide. Shrugging, I took up the same position next to her, my arms spread out, laying on my stomach. I turned my head, leaning on my left cheek to face Robyn.

"Hey," she grunted. I just nodded, the dirt scratching at my face. "This is fun, right?" I raised an eyebrow, shaking my head. "Walking and walking..." As she rambled on, a slight rumbling buzz jittered next to my cheek. I reached out and covered Robyn's mouth. Her eyes darted around, confused, for a moment, before her eyebrows furrowed forward. We eased up, and the rumbling could be heard in the distance. I looked down the tunnel, then over my shoulder the way we came.

Oh, shit.

Leaping to my feet, I grabbed Robyn's arm, tugging her forward a few feet, before she shambled up. Her head glanced back. Blue eyes widening she darted forward. We sprinted, running for our lives.

Gamemaker Fulton lied to us. Because, at the moment, a giant round boulder was rolling straight for us.

"Dun, dun, den deee, dun, dun dun. Dun, dededeee, dun, da, dum, dum dum..." Robyn yelled. I slipped off a pack, lightening the load. A few seconds later, I heard the _crunch_ of the boulder running right over it.

"Indiana Theme?" I asked, pumping my arms as we ran. She nodded, and for a moment, she disappeared. I instantly skidded to a stop, glancing around, confused. Robyn's hand grasped my arm tight, nearly ripping it out its socket as she tugged me into a small inlet in the wall. I barely crammed myself into it enough with her as the boulder rolled by.

We stood there, compressed into the small space that branched off from the main tunnel. If it wasn't there, I doubt we would have escaped.

Robyn's head leaned on the wall, her heavy breath blowing in my face. We gasped for air for a few moments before stepping out from the small space. I collasped onto the ground. Robyn dropped her bags, slumping down with her back towards me. Her thin torso twisted to face me.

"Lucky I pulled you in," she commented. I lifted off my bags, pushing them to the side.

"Yeah," I sighed, laying down on the ground. "You can say that again."

"Lucky I pulled you in." She slammed her head backwards, smacking my stomach hard.

"Ow," I yipped. "Why must you always lay on me?"

Robyn shrugged. "You're comfy, Drale. Most boys would be happy to have a girl laying on them."

A morbid thought struck my mind. _Not if she's dead._ I don't even know why.

Suddenly, above us, the ceiling lit up, Gamemaker Fulton's smiling face lighting up.

"Whoops," she sighed. "Looks like I lied."

**_Trey Canter, District 7 Tribute_**

I had been watching the entire time. To think, I was only around the corner, and these idiots were able to make out right in front of me. Or was he doing CPR? I strolled forward as they strode up the stone steps. Best to take my time. I swept my ax in an arc as I started my ascent up the stairs. Whistling would have given me away, but I took my time getting to the top. The murmur of voices could be heard somewhere in the rush of the waterfall.

Yawn...whoa, they were really going at it. This definitely was not CPR. I leaned back on the wall, waiting for this love fest to end. I wonder if the Capitol is cracking up at this. That, or they're edging me on to chop them up so they'll be forever together, even after they die, and blah, blah, blah.

Filler's hands tangled through Cadette's hair, still wet and mangy from the water, her hands almost clawing at his chest. Yow, this was intense. Though, Brooke and I so out did them. This was innocent compared to us (wink, wink, if you know what I mean).

Cadette's hand drifted downwards, whoa is she-

Wait no, she's digging into her pocket. My eyes widened at the flash of a metal. No way...

In a quick thrust, Filler let go, stepping backwards. He pulled the blade from his stomach, staring at the blood on his hands. His own hands. He glanced up to Cadette in disbelief.

"Traitor," he hissed, eyes wincing in pain. Cadette laughed.

"Filler, these are the Hunger Games. One of us were to die, and it sure as hell won't be me." This girl knows what she's talking about. Filler's eyes looked down at his wound, then back up at her.

His eyes twinkled in a sad, pathetic look of anguish. "Your afraid to love, you know. And if you do leave these Games alive, you'll never be a Victor. On the inside you'll just be dead." He stumbled forward a step and gave Cadette a last, longing kiss. I rolled my eyes. Way to be dramatic, dude.

She seemed startled by this but didn't flinch away from his touch. When he let go, he stepped back, off the fricken' cliff. His eyes glanced over at me for the slightest of moments, eyes narrowing angrily. A moment of silence passed before an ear shattering cannon sounded through the tunnels, rumbling under my feet. Damn, yeah I needed that ear check.

Cadette stared unmoving, confused. Hey, why not freak her out?

Loud and boastful, I began clapping. I swear, she almost leapt off the cliff herself. Her body spun around, and expression showing a mix of hatred, shock, and a sprinkling of embarrassment. She snatched up her saber, weilding it in threatheningly.

I laughed. "That was quite the show, Cadette. Lead lover boy right on to the very end. He still loved you by the end of it. Never pictured you as a heartbreaker." My left eye winked sneakily. "I like that."

I walked forward a few steps, my ax dragging in the dirt, a line trailing behind me. Cadette swung her sword in a warning curve forward. her eyes glanced behind me nervously and flaky. I guess she's calculating her odds of escaping. This made me laugh again.

"Just take your death like the dick you are, Asshat," she hissed, glaring daggers. She glanced behind me again, giving a curt nod.

"Okay, piss me off," I scoffed. "You'll just die more painfully." Strangely enough, she only smiled. The last time I saw a smile that creepy was Reaping Day, from Freak.

I turned around...

**Ooh, dramatic ending. Thoughts? I'll have a poll on my profile of the remaining tributes, and the one who gets the most votes gets heavy consideration upon not dying. Try not to vote your own tribute, but you'll have multiple options to choose from, so it doesn't matter.**

**Death Count**

**Carson Drox, District 1. **

**Rimmer Kamerman, District 2**

**Nicholas Calloway, District 3**

**Violet Calloway, District 3**

**Filler Charlesworthe, District 4. **_Stabbed by Cadette in the stomach_

**Brooke Liam, District 4 **

**Kaeden Whitrow, District 5**

**Dia Lockhart, District 5**

**Reeda "Ree" Kails, District 7**

**Rocker Tripp, District 8**

**Quinten Wilkens, District 9**

**Kyla Sprit, District 9**

**Jayden Crush, District 11**

**Teagan Aniston, District 12**

**Top ten now, it's ending fast.**


	34. Cardio: That Poor Fat Bastard

**Whoa. I'm honestly a little surprised. With the poll I mean. I really need to rethink my ending. What I had planning kind of got screwed up, and still not sure how to work out the kinks. I'll figure it out.**

_**Cadette Flinch, District 2 Tribute**_

Wow, he actually fell for that. As Trey turned around, I swung an overhead cut, aiming at the tender area where his neck connects to his shoulder. He jerked around, though, just in time, blocking the blade with the shaft of his ax. Shit, I had been hoping on the whole element of surprise.

"Oh, Cadette," he grunted. "Such the blonde, I may say."

"You're the one who turned around, Asshat," I hissed through clenched teeth. My feet were bolted into the ground, Trey gradually pushing me back, close to the cliff edge.

Okay, think Cadette, think. Where can you hit Trey the hardest? Pride? No, he'll just brush you away. There's only one thing I can do.

Unlocking my knee, I swung my foot up.

Asshat stumbled back a few steps, dropping to his knees. "You shouldn't have done that." I literally laughed at how high an octave his voice had moved up into.

"Why you reeling so much?" I taunted. "They weren't that big any way."

I blinked and found myself dangling by my collar. Angry eyes bore into me, complete hate burning holes. "You really want to die, don't you?" He threw me down onto the dirt floor hard.

I made to roll the other way but a heavy foot pressed into my stomach. "You can't get away that easily."

Trey dropped down to sit on top of me. A big muscly dude. Gosh, I'm screwed. He brought up a fist and began to wham home some punches, each one building up with the surge of confidence and utter loathing. Most struck my arms, but several burst through to my face.

He stopped after awhile, a finger running up my chin. His eyes appraised me like I was a fancy piece of art work. "You know, you really are a pretty girl. Thinking back, Filler always did have eyes for you. So confident, so strong, so beautiful." His face dropped down, hovering over my bloodied face. "I mean, you're a total wreck at the moment. But I can see it."

His hands drifted down my body. Creep, perv, dick, asshat. So many names for a creature like Trey Canter.

The boy pulled a knife over from the ground. The one I killed Filler with. His blood was still on it. The blade shimmered in the torch light, and I could see my own, bruised expression. I had to use my head to get out of this.

"Where do we start?" Trey taunted. "Here?" A cold feeling was pressed to my neck, little trinkles of warmth running down the sides.

"Or here? We can certainly put a smile on your face." The blade hovered over my mouth. Use your head...

His face was a mere inch from mine as he swept in. "What do you think?" Trey is an overconfident womanizer of an asshat. How can I take him down...? Use my head...

"I can't believe it was right in front of me the whole time." Where am I going with this...?

Trey leaned back, confused. "I mean, there was Rimmer, and he was cute in a funny way. And Filler, he was so brave but you," this better work, "you're everything. I was so jealous of Brooke but it wasn't because she was flirting with Filler. But you."

His eyes scrutinized me one last time. Head facing the ceiling of the roof, loud laughing bellowing out of him. "You really are a pisser, Cadette!" The moron's laughing carried on, and he didn't notice I propped myself onto my elbows.

Moron's eyes bored into me. "Give me one reason I-"

Proppeling myself forward, I slammed my head into his. Sparks of pain flitted through my brain, but I had other matters to worry about. I managed to shove Trey off and scooped up my saber. Shoving my pride down my throat, I simply grabbed a pack and sprinted down the steps two at a time. Trey's angry voice bellowed after me but I just kept running.

I'll kill him later.

Never thought using my head could get me so far.

**_Dorian Happens, District 6 Tribute_**

Tanya lead the group. We've been pretty much just walking. Stop and rest. Walk. Stop to take a bathroom break (yeah, that was kind of awkward). Walk.

Suddenly, the walls lit up around us. A hologram, I believe.

A quirky looking reporter smiled at us. "Good morning Panem. Our tributes have been in the arena for six days, and what a six days it has been. As a go along with our _Think Twice_ Quarter Quell, we will be showing family interviews during the top ten. Let's see how proud they are to have such strong children."

The scene cut to an interviewer in what I guessed was District One. "Thanks, Barb. We're here in D1, talking to the friends of Westria Vise." A crowd of smiling teens waved to the camera, whooping and hollaring. The three of us just sat and watched.

The scenes continued on to Two, then skipped to Six. So the guy from Four must be dead.

The interviewer seemed escpecially perky and giggly. It must be a miracle to have both tributes from Six still alive. "I'm lucky to have two proud fathers here to talk to." She smiled broadly at Dad, and Arianne's father. He was a greying man, in his fifties. His beard looked especially grizzled today and for a fifty-something, he seemed kind of buff. Not absolutely ripped but enough that he could hurt me. Strange how I notice that now.

Both our fathers looked...old.

"So, it turns out your children have become quite the pair," she said through her giggles. "You've seen them at their worst in this arena. What are your thoughts on the future?"

The two looked at the microphone awkwardly, hoping the other one would. My dad finally leaned in. "We hope for the best, for both of them. Seeing the children bond has been, erm, touching to watch. I'm proud of my boy no matter what."

"And what are your thoughts on that strange girl with them, uh," the interviewer pressed her finger into her ear, I guess being reminded of the name. "Anya Ride."

"Yes, Ms. Tanya Ride," Mr. Misham corrected. The interviewer glared off at some person behind the camera but I held her smile the whole time. "The girl is quite the ally. Seemingly polite young lady. Quite the fighter." A smile came onto the man's face. "Arianne would have found her to be an excellent subject of a portrait."

The whole interview was just awkward. The entire situation. Watching your kid fall in love and just knowing the whole relationship is doomed because either one or the other or both of them will die. And there's something with dads and their daughters that makes it even weirder for them.

This just made me pull Arianne in closer. Her head rested on my shoulder. I've had a girlfriend or two before. Nothing serious, we went on some dates. My dad is used to the idea of me dating girls.

"Any words for your children?"

"Just, good luck to all of you," my dad said, rubbing some sweat from his forehead. Mr. Misham nodded solemnly.

"And Mr. Happens, you will never hear this, but take good care of my daughter. Your father raised a fine young man, and I don't expect you to do anything out of hand. Just remember that we are all watching." Not scared at all.

They cut around to some other people who know mainly me. My eyes widened at a very gaunt looking Unse. The camera people had to run to catch up with him. My friend shoved away the camera, walking off.

"We just have a few-" Unse cut her off with a flipped off bird. The woman appeared tempted to throw her shoe (which was reasonably a very lethal weapon) at him.

They continued on to Seven. A not as good-looking Asshat look alike appeared on the screen. Apparently, it was his twin brother.

"If he makes it home, it would be cool. But if he doesn't, well... I don't know. The family will mourn, we'll have the funeral, but really, I'd be happiest of the assholes gone." Wow. Looks like being an ego maniac doesn't just happen overnight in the Capitol.

They went on to the girl from Eight, who has a tiny little sister named, Scarlett, and then Ten. Another miraculous double.

A family consisting of several young girls came on. Tanya remained expressionless, so I pressume it was the other Ten, Drale's, family. His father seemed like a serious man, his face worn down from years on the ranch. A very solemn bunch.

His friend appeared up next. "Hey, dude, just remember, if you die, I'm getting your stuff." But his voice wavered slightly. "And tell that Robyn chick to call me sometime." His greens eyes twinkled sadly as he winked.

A scruffy haired girl took the screen next. Her eyes were a light blue color, and were framed by rectangular, beat-up looking glasses.

"Tanya has never been normal," she stated. "She's my best friend, and I know her better than I know myself sometimes. She'll get out of there. Even in ways we wouldn't expect."

"Like in a body bag?" the interviewer laughed. The camera person laughed along with the douche. Tanya's friend just stared at them with shame.

"I have to get to class."

One last interview came in for the girl from Eleven. Both her sisters were married, as well as her best friend, Leah. I have no idea why I noted that, but my brain just picked it up. I guess since Robyn doesn't seem to be the dating type, more... sarcastic.

They conveniently skipped Kellen Mellark's interview. Though, who would they talk to?

The hologram shrunk down and vanished altogether. I laid my head back on the wall, trying to take stock of what to do. Tanya sat up abruptly, running a hand down the rope part of the whip.

"You here that?" she said. I shook my head, my eyebrows furrowing, perplexed. Her ears twitched and she stood, grabbing some packs.

"We need to move." What she was suggesting was sort of ridiculous. But you never question Tanya Ride.

She had the grunt of the weight and sprinted like it was nothing. Arianne trailed at our feet and suddenly, I heard it too.

A heavy rush and crackling sound. I dared to glance over my shoulder and nearly tripped from the shock of it. At the end a pit of light danced forward. A giant blare of fire.

And above that sound I heard the screams and yells of the three of us as we ran for our lives.

**_Allie Manson, District 8 Tribute_**

Dirt. More dirt. I was so out of it that I didn't even realize the heightening pool of water around my ankles. My socks felt damp and something about wet socks just makes me want to cry. I've never, ever been this depressed before.

Suddenly, down the way, I heard a shout of "Oh, shit!" and the splashing of water. A panic striken Kellen Mellark flew by, his feet picking it's way through teh water like an antelope. Huh, he didn't even try to kill me...

Another sudden moment; a rushing sound. Like a waterfall.

I turned around and found a giant, wave rushing straight down the tunnel. Towards me.

My body turned back around. Looks like I'm joining Kellen.

So, screaming, I ran down the tunnel, for my life.

**_Westria Vise, District 1 Tribute_**

_You're getting nowhere, hon. _Every time I heard Trenton's voice in my head, I felt the urge to bang my head against a wall. _Doo-da-lee-doo. Oh, look at me, I'm a hot young thing who as all the time in the world. Maybe I should listen to my dad and RUN MY ASS OFF TO KILL THE NEXT MORON WHO WALKS INTO MY SIGHT!_

This time, I wrapped myself into a ball, banging my head against the ground. With every bang I muttered out a word.

"Get," bang, "out," bang, "of," bang, "my," bang, "head." By the end, my head spun but the voice was out. _I'm still here._

Dammit! I picked myself back up, dusting off the dirt from my clothes. My foot stumbled forward a step.

An urgent gust of wind sent my hair blowing into my face from behind. And then the scent. God, that's awful! Like Trenton's feet. I'd know (yeah, long story about that...)

Covering my mouth and nose, I jogged forward. My eyes watered and my throat itched. I glanced over my shoulder. What the fu-

Diamond shaped kites fluttered towards me. The situation would have been better if there wasn't those deadly looking blades at the tips of them.

And so, I sprinted ahead, running for my life.

**_Robyn Achene, District 11 Tribute_**

So there we were, running for our lives (you know, that phrase is used way too often in the Hunger Games). Only, this time, the cave was collapsing as we ran. Drale puffed heavily, taking in quick deaths.

"Hey," I called. "If one of us don't make it out alive," I leapt over a minor pot hole in my path, "the other can have their stuff. Agreed?"

Drale, his cheeks a vivid red (he really hates the tunnels. A little Santa Clause-trophobic. That's what's it's called, right?), shrugged. "Depends. My friend Matt may have first dibs." A bright light shone at the end of the tunnel. Dear gosh, we were already dead. We were just running down into our next life. In which we may just die again.

Mental note; track down this Matt fellow and make him disappear under mysterious circumstances.

**_No deaths..._**

**And another round of "Whose Line Is It Any Way?" Short, but consists of who is left.**

**1**. "We can wait to see if a magical unicorn takes a sip. Unicorns know all, right?"

**2**. Wait. Was I blushing?

**3.** (Wink, wink, if you know what I mean)


	35. Explosion! Again!

**Ah, school. What a lovely place of such evil.**

**_Westria Vise, District 1 Tribute_**

We all seemed to slide into the wide, open space at the same moment. All the elements clashed together in the center, a ball of flame, a wave of water, my stinky ass winds, a tumbling of rocks. Even a red in the face Cadette just barely escaped a lighting bolt as it surged after her.

I could see Mellark standing by the girl from 8 and the two 6's and Tanya huddled together. Pulling my swords, I charged forward. _Wham!_

_Way to look stupid, hon._

"Shmm Hmmp." My breath fogged up before me as I peeled my face off the wall of plexiglass. This is like one of those house of mirror things. Instead, you look even my stupid.

An aggravated Cadette (Filler must somehow be dead) slammed her sword against the glass, pounding hard. Tanya and the Sixes have already had the brilliance enough to try to find their way through.

Even though we were cut off, the voices and conversations of the other tributes could be heard clearly.

"Are we there yet? Are we there yet?" A long pause. "How about now?"

At the center, I could see a blaring bright light. It hurts like hell to stare, but right in the center, you could see a staircase spiraling upwards. Just who will make it up is the intense question.

**_Tanya Ride, District 10 Tribute_**

My eyes darted about, viewing the carefully. You could barely see it, just had to look closely. A glare here, a smudge there. Dorian followed closely behind me.

"You sure we on the right track?" I waved over my shoulder, in a gesture of silence. One more turn and the light seemed to scorch our skin upon the traces of light flecking onto us. Suddenly, Arianne screamed.

Cadette stood, weilding her sword in a wide swipe. Arianne flinched back, a spray of red lighting up the scene. My knuckles chalked white, wrapping around the whip. Cadette stepped forward, swiping with an undercut. Dorian shoved his partner behind him, inching over to the stairs.

With a flick of my wrist, the sickening crack swiping a red patch across the Careers face. The girl growled, snatching the rope and tugging hard. I gestured for the other two to go ahead. Arianne's face was already beginning to pale form her wound.

"But-"

"Now!" My voice screeched out, narrowly dodging the swish of Cadette's blade. In another quick sidehand, the curved edge grazed my arm, a blossom of blood spirting out. My feet edged back and finally struck the scorching metal of the first step. This girl wasn't going down without a fight.

She continued on up the steps at me with a flurrish of thrusts and overhands and undercuts. Several broke skin, and my blood began to seep. For a moment, Cadette stopped.

"What the hell is up with you?" Okay, so yeah. My blood is a tinge purple. Not a deep set but it had some blue undertones that made it purple. I shrugged uneasily.

"I'm Tanya Ride. The freaky orphan girl from Ten." My mouth tasted metallic-y, the endurance in my veins wearing thin. A blue little vein pulsed in Cadette's forehead, in which she lunged forward. I snatched on her wrist, shoving hard. The grey hat on her head fell. A sizzling hiss made me twitch as the fabric met the searing light.

Her face tensed. "You shouldn't have done that." She pushed me up the last of the way to the surface. We grappled, her stronger arms grasping tight onto my collar bones. Our bodies tumbled a few feet before she sat right over me, her leering face oozing confidence.

"Take that, freaky bitch!" she laughed. "I win. I'll win it all." From her pocket, she pulled a knife, and my stomach leapt as I caught sight of the dried specks of blood.

"We're should we start? I'd love to have one of those teeth to show off." This witch pinched my nose, causing my mouth to spread wide from lack of air. I watched the blood knife enter my mouth, and the slight flick of her wrist. Pain shot up right to my brain.

A deep growl guttered at the back of my throat. For just the slightest second, Cadette's eyes seemed to flash with fear, but her composure quickly clicked back into place.

"My life has been about training. But the Games has taught me a lot." Her knife came down onto my arm, and she began to saw. A tear escaped with every snap of a tendon, every pull of the knife.

"I learned how people really work. How it feels to have feelings for someone." She said everything like we were just two friends sharing some deep, emotional secrets. "And how to screw everything up.

"I'm done. No more little Games. I'm just going to win." I pressed my face to the dirt of the ground, wanting it to just end. Wanting it all to end.

And then I heard it. The slight little sound. Ticking. A mysterious ticking noise (oh, awful pun).

There was a bomb. And it was going off.

"Ca-" But before I could even think to stop her, a figure rose up behind her. The girl from Eight, Allie.

"I hate you." I couldn't hear the words, but I could see them form on her lips. "You ruined everything. Everything."

Her blue eyes trailed to me and I jutted my chin out, wincing in pain. "Run!" my voice crackled. My request seemd off to her but I just shook my head. "Save yourself. Run!"

The last word came out audible and Cadette rocked back onto her heels, comfused. "Run!"

Allie stepped away. I nodded.

And just as Cadette twisted her head, looking over her shoulder, the ground shook and the world flashed brightly. My eyes rolled up and everything faded black.

**_Dorian Happens, District 6 Tribute_**

Tanya's body soared through the air and Arianne sobbed out loud as it fell with a disheartening thud. She, not it.

The bony girl fled out to our comrade, cradling her head in her arms. She started wiping away the dirt, breathing air back into her. I shook my head at the lost cause.

"Arianne." Her big eyes twinkled with tears, refusing to look up at me. "She's gone."

Another sob uttered out of the girl as she comtinued with her compressions to Tanya's bloodied chest. Two purple eyes flickered open. A cannon fired.

Arianne kept going.

My hand wrapped around her wrist but she shoved me away, trying with no prevail to heal our friend. "No, she can't die. She can't." For the slightest of moments, I thought Tanya's eyes swiveled to meet mine, a single tear rolling down her dirty cheek. But the days have been long, and I am truly starting to lose it.

"We have to move," I stated, hearing the calls of battle from the stair way. We were just on a higher level of the tunnels. Cadette's limp body was splayed aside, a girl staring down upon her with sadness. Her sword stabbed through her and a final cannon sounded.

The girl, Eight, nodded. "Tanya saved me." She glanced around nervously. "So thanks."

My throat felt dry. Tanya wasn't saved. She was dead. Taking Arianne's hand, I tugged her along towards a tunnel way. Eight took another.

A bug like machine crawled out, the outer shell opening in a flurrish. The large bug eased the bodies of the deseased into it, hobbling away. So that's how they take the bodies out in the tunnels.

A cloud of mourning floating over our heads, we continued on.

But we stopped suddenly as we found the grate. We were trapped.

**_Kellen Mellark, District 12 Tribute_**

My bow felt like a dead weight in my hands. Was I truly meant to survive? Teagan's statement lodged deep into my brain. At first, I had just waved it aside. Yeah, like the Capitol would want me to win.

But it did sort of make sense, when it is explained. Still sound stotally stupid, but some sense. I pulled back on the string, aiming towards the head of the District One girl.

She and the girl from Eleven were going at it. D1 had a gift for the dual swords, but long days out in the fields made Eleven a master with the scythe. The arrow soared, but struck the glaring bright side.

A bolt of light shattered through and flames rained down over everything. And I realized that the stairs were now impassible.

Glass shattered and the floor seemed to rise up. My breath became short, my vision danced. Smoke swirrled around me.

Great, I was dead.

My foot struck a surface, and it felt more like metal. My body stumbled back and another metal object hit my back hard.

The light around me closed up in a single slit, darkness enveloping me.

**More dead, in shorter times then expected**

**Carson Drox, District 1**

**Rimmer Kamerman, District 2**

**Cadette Flinch, District 2**

**Nicholas Calloway, District 3**

**Violet Calloway, District 3**

**Filler Charlesworthe, District 4**

**Brooke Liam, District 4 **

**Kaeden Whitrow, District 5**

**Dia Lockhart, District 5**

**Reeda "Ree" Kails, District 7**

**Rocker Tripp, District 8**

**Quinten Wilkens, District 9**

**Kyla Sprit, District 9**

**Tanya Ride, District 10**

**Jayden Crush, District 11**

**Teagan Aniston, District 12**

**Kellen Mellark...?**

**Sorry, school and my weekly activities has made it difficult to post. I literally wrote all of this in a night. This one is shorter than usual, and sorry if it sounds a little rushed. It's ending soon, and I have this whole thing planned out. And last call for poll. I'll show the results after the story ends, and the person with the least amount of votes _is _dying.**


	36. Don't Be A Cow

**Okay, taking my time this time. Breath. They won't riot if you don't post right away. At least I hope. *Gulp***

**Oh, and I have a secret. Can't say, but if you venture, you'll find. Think about it. I won't _name _it quite yet.**

**_Robyn Achene, District 11 Tribute_**

My body spazzed about, dodging and swaying away from the tirade of blows flitting from Westy's sword. This wasn't a moment for sarcasm. Which means a lot.

Finally, I managed to hook her foot, yanking back with the scythe. She yelped with pain, but managed to come in with a swift swipe of her blade. Ooow...that hurt.

The blow knocked me back a few feet, a shred of skin flapping slighty from my stomach. Blood seeped through my t-shirt, painting it a crimson red.

"Drale..." My voice trailed off, sweeping my blade to keep the Career at bay. "I need some help here."

"Kind of busy!" His voice came out strained, and I found him grappling with Asshat (where the hell did he come from...?). Westria hopped onto her feet in amazing show of agility. What the hell am I going to do?

She leapt forward, shoving me down. The tips of her hair tickled at my face and I worked hard to reach for my scythe.

My hand wrapped around something metal. Taking it up, I shoved the object at Westy, nailing her dead in the eye. The strike dazed her enough to make her crumple backwards.

"Shut up!" She screamed, yanking the fork from her eye. Both her hands banged the side of her temples and it scared me a bit. Three people were dead. We were down to, what, seven? Now one of the tributes were losing it. Yay.

Drale managed to wrap his arms around Trey's neck, and they struggled for control, the winning side wavering with every passing moment. The two Sixes darted from the tunnel they had traveled, skirting about the action. Thanks for the help!

My head swam from fatigue and loss of blood. Blurred figures danced in my vision but I blinked it clear.

Something metal banged against my foot and I looked down to find a blinking red disc. Nerves and adrenaline coursed through my veins as I kicked it away towards. it became a very intense came of hot potatoe, Westy tossing it back and me nudging it towards her.

Westy, frustrated, grabbed the mine, throwing it hard down a tunnel. The sound of a girl grunting with exertion echoed down, a body sliding away and the loud _BOOM! _a bomb or whatever the hell that was.

An angry shout called after words.

And for a moment, I actually couldn't think of a sarcastic comment. Because the voice sounded lost and empty. And broken. So broken.

**_Allie Manson, District 8 Tribute_**

I twisted around and found the boy from 6 huddled in a ball. Uneasily, I crept forward, finding his fists dug into the sockets of his eyes as he forced back the tears.

"No, no, no, no." His fist slammed against the cave wall. "FUCK!" Sobs worked their way out, and I found him actually over the limp body of his district partner. Her large round eyes fluttered open. Both her legs were gone and the reflex churn of my stomach rumbled.

"You were one of the greatest friends I ever had." Her voice was light an airy, barely a whisper. The boy shook his head, gathering her remains in his arms.

"No, you can heal yourself," his head shook, tears streaming down his filthy cheeks. "We'll stop the bleeding. You-"

"I love you, Dorian. Remember that the world is beautiful, and remember the colors." From her pocket, she pulled a book. Her sketch book, I believe. "Take care."

The boy, Dorian, choked back a sob. His voice calmed enough for him to say, "But it won't be the same Arianne. Not without you." He leaned down and kissed her.

The rumbling earshattering cannon sounded. Dorian sobbed over the girl's dismantled body. Did I just say dismantled?

I kneeled beside him, hands in my lap. "She pushed me out of the way," he stated, his face contorted in sad rage. "She saved me. And she's dead." Timidly, I draped an arm over his shoulders, letting him sob.

Heartbroken and lost. So, so, lost.

We sat there for a long moment when the ground began to shake, the walls tumbling. Dust kicked up into the air and some strange fog wrapped around us. I climbed to my feet, running off into the action portion of the tunnel, after finding the other way blocked.

"Just go," Dorian said bitterly. "I'll be fine."

My shoulder shrugged and I turned back towards the opening but I couldn't get my feet to move. Too many people have died already. Some i cared about so much. I've never talked to Dorian before but I had to help him.

Gripping his underarms, I heaved up, tugging him along. "Whoa, what are you doing?" his voice crackled.

"Saving your butt. Unless you want me to die too, I suggest you move!" He stumbled onto his feet. The twos duos fighting each other kicked up even more dirt and we stepped into the area.

Then the little section started to rise up, the side tunnels crumpling. Fog seemed to start to drift in around us and I couldn't even see my own hands in front of me.

**_Drale Shetler, District 10 Tribute_**

Trey was slightly bigger than me, but I had years of cattle training to build me up myself. When fog started to float, I had slid out from underneath him, rolling several feet. I couldn't find any one. My hand brushed against someone else's.

A fork jabbed into my hand. I answered with a typical response, yelling in pain.

"Oh, sorry, Drale," Robyn's voice floated through to me. "You're not dead, right?"

"No, I'm fine," I said, gripping her hand in mine. Suddenly two hands clasped onto my shoulders, tossing me to the side.

Trey heavy breath breathed in my face. Two words; breath mints. I've been hanging around Robyn way too often.

Asshat gripped my neck, closing tight. I attempted to jerk him off but he just squeezed tighter, banging my head against the stone ground. A sharp point seemed to slicing into the back of my head and it dazed my vision every so slightly.

"Who's the man?"

"Trey," I choked out. "Don't be a cow."

Finally he let go, punching me hard in the side of the face. "What you call me?"

I slid away, swiping away a few shaggy strands of hair. "I didn't call you anything. Just suggested you not be a cow. You're already an Asshat."

The boy roared with rage, pulling his ax over and raising it over his head. His hate filled eyes bored into me.

Suddenly, I found the eyes staring at me from my lap. And the wet feeling of blood.

"Night-night, you sick twisted bastard." Robyn's voice muttered throught the fog, her bloody scythe visible at my feet.

"Cow," I coughed. "Sick, twisted cow."

Standing, I found Robyn's face startling close to mine. She smiled awkwardly, but the slid downwards, yelping.

I tried to grab her but she was already gone. A cannon fired. Robyn?

Several other cannon's fired, people calling out in shock. My own feet started to sink but I tumbled to the side, away from the hazardous ground.

What the fuck is going on?

**I'll just let the death count go. Things gotta stay mysterious. I know this chapter is short, but this is what I've kind of been leading up too.**

**I have a secret...remember that. And be curious. I'm telling you, the answer is literally a scroll and click away.**


	37. Too Many Questions, Not Enough Answers

**So my friend and I start collecting money while setting out cookies at Back to School Night for our unestablished charity. Not knowing what to do with the money, we asked a teacher, who literally suggested we possibly split and keep the cash. Though, we did give it to Families In Need. Eleven whole bucks.**

**Switching to overlord powerful POV**

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are proud to announce the Victor of the One hundredth Hunger Games."

The fog cleared, a body laying in a ragged heap on the ground. The rise and fall became evident for life and the shaggy head rose, glancing around confused. The headless body of Trey Canter sprawled at the side of a dirt pit. The person climbed to wobbly feet, striding over to the Grinning skulls staring up at you were enough of a shock to send any sane person flying back.

What the fuck was going on?

_I just won the Hunger Games?_ There were still...six-ish people alive. But there were also six skulls (and a Trey head) in the pit. Something about this wasn't right.

A claw came down and the ground started leaving the newly crowned Victor's feet. The ground he left was a patchwork of green and yellow, a dust bowl of dirt scattered about. Everyone was dead? No way. This wasn't happening.

_I'm just dead. Or in a dream state. Some sort of drug in me making me see things._

"Congratulations!" a perky sounding nurse giggled. "Now time to go night-night. Just until we reach the Capitol." An IV was jabbed into the Victor's arm, who's brown eyes widened at the woman. They began to flutter shut though, head sinking back on the pillow. Sleep. Be confused later.

-0-

"Where am I?" Westria pounded against the side of the metal walls. The sound echoed off and could be heard throughout the compact area.

_Well..._

"Shut up, you!" Her voice carried again. Was she dead? No, the voice would probably be gone. Although, that could be her eternal damnation. Hearing Trenton's voice for the rest of her life.

_Peek-a-boo..._

Fuck it. If she really was dead, there'd be one way to test it. And going back, if she actually did win, she's never want to see Trenton's stupid face ever again. So hey, kill herself, why not. Her hands patted down the sides of her body. Finally, she found a small little tool knife. Pocket knife, idiot.

The blade gleamed in the glow of the single light hanging abover her head. She feared Trenton. That's true. Her friend back home was right about that. Non-asshat Trey. One person actually stood up for her in the face of Trenton. And he was probably already six-feet-under in District One, his idiot girlfriend crying over his body, probably knocked up.

Something about thinking about Carson that way just made her sad all over again. She couldn't think badly for him. Just couldn't.

Taking the knife, she head the flat side to her neck. Just one pull, and it would be over. All over.

The blade began to sink when a voice called from the darkness.

"Don't you dare!" At first, she worried it had been Trenton's voice. She stared sheepishly at the weapon, thinking about how she automatically pulled away. Dammit.

A blonde haired girl (I think...) stumbled up. Smudges of dirt covered her face and in her short hair.

"Please, do not get suicidal. The option sounds pretty good right now, but I don't want your decaying flesh around. It'll probably be very messy." A long, thin hand reached out. The Trenton part said to stab her now but Westria just tossed the blade over. The clatter if teh small object hitting metal branched out from where we sat.

Finally, blonde headed shadow emerged, grey-speckled blue eyes blinking at the Career. They glanced around awkwardly, unsure.

"So...are we supposed to be killing each other right now?" Westria shrugged.

"I'm honestly too tired, and have no idea what's going on," the girl sighed, running a hand through her auburn hair. "So, uh, are we the only ones here." As the light finally hit her face fully, she saw it was the Eleven chick. Wow, Westria thought. I must be really tired.

"I think I heard someone screaming earlier, down there." A long pause passed. "You were screaming too at one point," Robyn shrugged, giving a sheepish expression.

Westria laid her head back on the metal. Voices started up close by. Footsteps carried and two figures joined the social circle. Westria blinked. The girl from Eight and the boy from 6. They awkwardly sat, legs crossed.

"So..." Six said.

"Where's your girlfriend?" Westria couldn't help but ask. The boy just gave her a blank expression.

"She got blown up." Robyn glanced down guiltily, her eyes peeking up at the other girl. Technically, they had been the cause of Arianne's death, having tossed the explosive down the tunnel.

Westria shrugged. "That sucks. My ally was killed by an arrow. The ones I started out with just killed each other." A thought struck. "Where's Asshat?"

Robyn chewed off a hangnail. "Probably rotting in Hell by now. Without a head." A long pause came.

"Good riddence," Six mumbled. The circle grunted in agreement.

"So are we all dead?" Eight asked, scratching her head, sneezing lightly. Westria shrugged.

"Probably."

Robyn frowned at this statement. "Wait, if we're all dead, then that means-" her eyes widened- "that damn bastard. Fuck, I promised him all my stuff if I die." The group raised eyebrows in confusion. "Drale, hello, he won." More blank stares. Then Six's eyes widened in acknowlegdement.

"Wait, yeah, that was Tanya's district partner. So where are we?"

Silence.

"How long have we been here?" Eight asked. "And how long will it be?"

More silence.

"What's-"

Westria groaned. "Why the hell are we asking questions no one can answer, since we are all in this situation?"

Robyn raised a slow hand. "You just asked a question."

Westria banged her head backwards, hoping to have this all end soon.

-0-

The sights of the Capitol danced in the eyes of our only brown eyed tribute remaining. He actually survived. But something still felt off. Something not right.

He thought about everything that happened. Did he even kill any one? A squirrel, a technical mutt (not even). None of it made sense. Seeing the recaps will actually something he looked kind of forward to.

Robyn... how could Robyn be dead? She was there, then gone. Just gone and now apparently dead. Along with everyone else. Various snarky commenst ran through his brain.

Over the past few days, Robyn has become a real friend. Life in District 10 is all seriousness, at least, his life. Hardwork to get what you want, honest words and hospitalitity for people to like you.

But Robyn...taught him to be a kid. To do stupid stuff, say stupid stuff, have fun. Having her gone hurt Drale slightly. Like losing a friend. His mind wandered to Matt. Drale knew for a fact that if him and Robyn met, they'd get along real well. They were a lot alike in different ways.

Drale shifted on the thin pad of bedding, wanting to so badly to rip off all needles and wires attached to his arms. How could he have survived?

Robyn had plummeted to somewhere. When he started to sink, he just jumped away.

Was he the only one to jump?

Too many flipping questions. Why was he asking so many questions to himself?

Robyn's voices floated through his mind. "That was a question cow head." Yes, yes it was.


	38. Truths and Lies

**Ah, confused stares. But notice how the story has not been marked as Complete.**

**Think of this as part Three, my friends. Reapings+Games+This Bit.**

**Enjoy.**

"So, Drale Shetler, how does it feel to be the Victor of the 100th Hunger Games?" The teens crowded around the small television, examining the boy who was decided to win the Hunger Games. All was over, grievences put to rest, six feet under.

But four extra hearts still beat, thought Allie. Four hearts that should have stopped cold.

Little did she know that it was actually six.

The murmur of the private plain kept a stimulating sound that nagged at Allie's mind. Some of what happened was actually described to them. That they were in fact reaped for suspicions of being rebels. For having hearts that deserve to die, for being against the Capitol. That rebels saved them, when Kellen Mellark was supposed to win. That the Capitol had meant to bury them all alive and just kill everyone except Drale, who happened to jump out of the way. Apparently, he was quite the fan favorite.

Allie felt even more of a burning hate for those people. They killed her mother. And all that time, she slightly blamed her sister. A cringe creased her face as she realized what she had just thought. No, you've never blamed Scarlett for Mom dying. It was just an accident.

Well, until now, it was.

Her blue eyes flickered back up at the screen. The scenes of the arena flashed, but most of it was centered around Drale, and a lot of Robyn.

The supposed dead girl watched it curiously, from the first night she fell on him. Her sarcasm was a common topic of conversation throughout Caesar Flickerman's comments. Drale simply shrugged.

"She's like that." His eyes casted downwards. "At least was." Robyn's gut twisted.

"I'm still alive, cow head!" Her fist slammed against the screen and the force was hard enough to break it. The others glared fiercly at the girl who just crawled away on the fancy fur carpet.

One of the doors finally swung open and the group's mouths all dropped open.

"Gamemaker Fulton?" The brown eyed, brown haired girl waved, a slight smile on her face. It didn't reach her eyes though.

"No worries, I'm on your side." The first thing to be noticed was her accent, or lack of, any way. Robyn's heard the familiar tone often the past week. "Please, don't bum rush and kill me."

They all stared with dark expressions, glancing nervously at the rebels who stepped on either side of her. She sighed wearily, waving them away.

"Trust me, nothing you say will make me feel any worse than I already do." Crouching to the floor, she slid onto her bottom, crossing pale arms across her. She seems like the kind who would tan, though. Must not have seen much sunlight lately.

"You killed my district partner," Robyn stated blankly.

"And mine," Dorian added with a bitter, disgusted frown.

"I honestly can't say anything," Westria shrugged. "Respect you, a bit." Their ears started popping again, noting their descent.

Fulton shrugged. "Uh, sorry. Wow, I sound like an ass." The Gamemaker pulled in her knees, resting her chin on them.

"Asshat," the 'dead' tributes stated in unison. The woman sighed again.

"What the hell am I supposed to say?"

"Why you did it," Dorian suggested. "Why you agree to be one of them."

Westria nodded. "Really, and what's with the accent, Fulton?"

The Head Gamemaker shuttered. "Please, do not call me that. I go by Van, if anything. This point on, you know me as Evangeline. Not Margaret."

"So, what are you originally from Ten?" Robyn asked. "Wouldn't blame you for trying to cover up that accent."

Van shrugged. "Evangeline Ride is from District Ten. Margaret Fulton _was _from the Capitol." She held up a finger towards Dorian to stop is flow of questions. "When I was about twelve, actually a week after my birthday, I ran away from home. Had an insane father and a mother who refused to leave him. At the time, my mom was pregnant. This fact made me extra anxious for us to leave, us being her, my brother and I. One evening, my dad had failed to make the quota at work so quit and came back, all happy dandy.

"I made an ultimatum for my mom; leave him, or I go. And she chose him

"That evening, I packed up what I could easily carry. Kissed Theo, my brother, goodnight, and snuck into my Mother's room while was sleeping to wish my unborn sibling goodnight. And so I took to the outer gates, managing to hop the fence and run, never to look back."

A long pause was enough for Dorian to hop in. "You're related to _Tanya?"_ Everyone raised an eyebrow at the boy, but Van simply nodded.

"Pretty much. Her older sister, if you please. Traveling long enough, I came across another runaway. Margaret Fulton, who had come all the way from the Capitol. She...was a kindred spirit. If she were alive today, she'd probably be nothing like what the reputation her name has today. Probably a little quirky upon Capitol standards. Maybe even a stylist." Van stared off into the distance, smiling at some old, forgotten memory.

"It was late December, one of the coldest winters in history. I had even a worse time with it, being from Ten and all. I had some thick skin to the elements, though, unlike Margaret who chattered and trembled like a leaf."

"What happened to you?" Allie asked, eyes wide. Van breathed out her nose, the memories bring negative emotions back.

"Her parents had hired some very high up bounty hunter sorts. Of course they found her, me as well. They decided to take me back too. But Margaret was weak, and even with the medics and nurse maids of the estate back at her home, she still couldn't make it.

"Both her parents were distraught with grief. I barely survived myself. And her parents, being raised in the Capitol state of mind, simply thought to replace her. Insert me. Change the name. We even looked alike. Same brown eyes."

Van shook her head, laughing. "Same brown eyes."

-0-

**_Drale Shetler_**

I watched the recaps, relaxing into the chair. The edges of my nerves, though, stayed rigid, anxiously watching the crowd around me. Meat seemed to be having a jolly time, having actually had a tribute to win. His money had been on Tanya the whole time, but he got someone out of the deal.

Then it came; how all this ended. I watched and my eyes widened at it all. The fog coming through. Robyn slicing off Trey's head. And then a hole that opened up. I was able to leap out of the way but Robyn stumbled through, flames leaping up. I cringed. Hopefully she died quickly.

I stood there, standing eye to eye with Westria. Since when did I do that?

With a slack jaw, I watched myself fight her off with only a sickle and short dagger. Me on the screen sliced her features off, before spinning around and slitting the throats of the other two remaining tributes, who didn't even fight.

I didn't kill them. I didn't kill any one.

The Capitol was hiding something.

Caesar just smiled at me, clueless to my thoughts. "You know, we have some questions that everyone would like to know. I mean, everyone is dying to know the feelings behind that spectacular kiss between you and Robyn Achene. Did you two-"

"Um, no, we were just friends."

Caesar nudged me playfully, and I just shifted away. "Wasn't pretty enough for our future Victor, right?"

"Well, uh, I wouldn't say I thought she was bad looking..."

"So you will admit that you felt attracted towards her?"

"No, but-"

"I mean, that kiss looked pretty convincing. Did you enjoy it?" I all but decked that guy in the face. Okay, Robyn admitedly was cute, and she did have a good character, funny personality, and an awesome kisser-

Okay, I'm losing it. The Games is getting to my head. Try going to sleep at night without the thought of maybe getting your throat slit. Or some other terrible thing. Robyn will always be a friend to me. If it could have gone any where, I would never know. Robyn and I just seemed too different.

"So?" Caesar asked expectantly.

I shook my head, standing. "Why does it matter? She's fucking dead." I plucked the microphone from my collar, tossing it at the interviewer.

I shoved by the Peacekeepers, backstage. No one stopped me.

Who would injure they're prescious little Victor?

**I'm watching this show Beyond Scared Straight. And this girl, 13, smoking weed, drinking, and having sex. Thirteen years old, and partying. **

**What the hell?**


	39. Only the Beginning

**I'll make this the last chapter. I was planning to make it longer, but I feel it'll probably drag then. Then I'll let you know of a surprise. Oh, and I've had this first bit planned for awhile, actually from the chapter this tribute was reaped. Go back, and read it if you need a reminder.**

**_Allie Manson, District 8 Tribute_**

We landed and were lead into some sort of headquarters. And I swear this place was _huge._ Capitol scale huge. Various helicopters fluttered in and out throughout the day.

When we were supposed to die, Gamemaker Fulton had designed a secret hatch for us to hide in, so we wouldn't actually die. My heart clenched up at the thought of my allies.

They could have survived. They could have made it back home, somehow.

But the didn't. They died.

Our quartet got waved to stay in a specific room, comfy leather chairs with a massage setting. Robyn sank into, smiling as her butt slid down. "I should have died awhile ago."

Westria paced anxiously, like a puppy who needed to go outside to pee. "Fuck it, I'm going. What's the worse they can do to us?"

Robyn hopped up, kicking down the recliner. "I'm joining." A smile crept onto my face. Rocker would have jumped at the chance to go against authority. It would have taken Kyla some persuasion, but she would have followed along. This obviously will never happen though.

Dorian creaked up onto his feet, rolling back his aching shoulder. "I'll come. I want to check out any labs they may have in this place." The four now made a trio wandered out. After a moment, Dorian's head popped back in.

"You coming?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm fine. You guys go, I'll just...relax here." Dorian nodded, his freshly cut blonde hair disappearing behind the door. A sigh sounded throughout the quiet room.

Some time passed before a different person appeared in the doorway. He glanced about, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"Adventuring," I stated quietly.

"Ah," he answered. It took me a moment, without the uniform and fresher face, to realize it was the Peacekeeper who had been standing watch when I said my goodbye. My eyes widened and he nodded at my final acknowledgement.

The man eased into the still vibrating seat, sighing. "This is nice," his voice rumbled. I laughed and he smiled at the notion.

"Good to see you out of there," he said. "You alright?"

I just remained quiet. I could say simply yes, my body was fine, I wasn't seeing things. But my head still shook. "No, not really." The man smiled sadly.

"I know the feeling. The Hunger Games can mess with your mind." The comment made me cock my head slightly.

"Have you ever been in the Hunger Games?" The man looked old enough that he could have been in one of the first Games after the rebellion. Fulton mentioned that Katniss and Peeta Mellark sometimes stopped by in the headquarters. I wonder how they're taking Kellen's death...

The man nodded, his blue eyes casting downwards sadly. "Uh, yeah, I have. Won the damn thing too. Although, I'll never be the same."

"Nor I," my voice couldn't help but add.

We sat there in silence, the buzz of the chair humming about the room.

Out of nowhere, the door swung open, baging hard against the wall. "Give it!" a boy's voice shouted. A decently sized girl fluttered something over the other's head and I felt my jaw drop.

"Make me!" she squealed in a high, whiny voice to mock him. He's alive? How can he be alive? I can't be too surprised though, so am I.

The two circled a bit before the fake Peacekeeper stood. "Excuse me!" His tone had one of those you don't question again. The two stopped abruptly, turning back around. The girl had to be only 19, and well...the other was Kellen Mellark.

"Rose, give back Kellen's watch. What are you guys, four?" He face looked serious, but an underlying smile still hung under the expression. The girl, Rose, dropped Kellen's watch into his hand. Kellen crossed his arms stubbornly.

"Sorry, Dad," they said in unison. I could feel the slot machine in my head start to turn, landing on three winning 7's.

Ding. Ding. Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding.

Gosh I was...a flat out idiot. My jaw dropped and the boy I thought was dead gave me a slight glance.

"Just...go find the other tributes. Please?" The two rolled their eyes but didn't question authority.

As the door closed, the man turned back to me, smiling at my shocked expression.

"You didn't bother to tell me you were Peeta Mellark?"

**_Unse, Friend of Dorian Happens_**

I chewed my lip anxiously, fiddling with my little bomb contraption. I haven't been watching the games much, but apparently the device had killed someone.

Dorian was in this very building. Somwhere in this huge place, he was here. I'll see him soon enought...

The door swung open and I had to do a double take to realize it was Dorian. Wow, that was sooner than expected.

We froze, staring at one another.

"Uh...hi?" I waved, pushing the weapon off to the side. Dorian smiled, but didn't walk in for any sort of hug. His face grin didn't reach his eyes either.

"So you work for the rebels?" His monotonous tone sent slight shivers down my back. I've never heard him sound so blank. Not like Dorian at all. He peered at my little device curiously.

"What may that be?" His speech even sounded a little fancier. May have been that Arianne chick that he hung around. Something was going on between her and Dorian, I'm not too sure. She didn't make it out. That's all I'm certain off.

"Oh, it was this grenade sort of thing. A bomb with a count down device. I helped Fulton design it for the Games." My tone dropped. "She said it blew these girls legs off." My eyes raised back up at Dorian. Instead of the blank look he gave me before, his expression burned with rage.

"You...killed her?" I blinked, unsure of what to say.

"Well, I can't be certain on who it killed-"

I flinched back at Dorian's abrupt laughter. He shook his head, eyes narrowing on me. "You know, this actually happened to me in the arena. Blurted about how I helped design the mutts to Arianne. Also blurted that I love her," oh, that's their relationship status, "and she told me to leave. We did meet up again, but now I understand how she felt."

I had no idea what to say.

"Won't exactly forgive you," he added. "But I will still be your friend. Can I just get something out of my system?

I slowly shook my head, before transitioning into a nod. "Yeah sure anything."

Dorian casted daggers at me, arms tensing up. "I'm going to fucking kill you."

**_Westria Vise_**

It had taken about seven workers in this place to rip Dorian off his friend. Props to the kid, though, if it were someone like Trenton, he would be dead. Period.

The taller kid had to brought to the infirmary. Me and Robyn watched him pass and damn, that was gonna leave a mark. _You could've done worse._

Robyn glanced at me strangely as I dug my fingers into my temple. She just shrugged, used to the gesture already.

-0-

**_Drale Shetler_**

In some ways, being the new Victor is nice. I've never seen the district so lively. Little kids ran by, laughing, actually laughing. People waved kindly at me, some just their shutters. I walked up the dirt path to the two stor house I was searching for. 208. The orphanage.

Hesitantly, I gave a knock. After a moment, I knocked again. A young teen opened it, her face pouty and thin. Yelling could be heard in the background, and kids of all ages ran by, blowing noise makers and grinning chocolate smiles.

"What?" he said, before his expression softened. "I mean, hello, can I help you?" Fear and admiration glistened in his brown eyes.

"Uh yes, this was the home of Tanya Ride before she was reaped, correct?" The boy grimaced, yelling for a man named Clinton.

"So did you really kill all those kids in the end?" Before I could give a sufficient answer, whatever I could gather in my mind to come to a reasonable answer, a short grouchy man shoved the kid aside.

"Whatya want?" he growled. Apparently, even the new Victor doesn't get this guy to adjust his attitude. Something in me felt thankful for that.

Clearing my throat, I tried to construct my face in the most serious gesture I could without looking weak. "I would just like to pay my respects to the orphanage, about the untimely death of Tanya."

Strangely enough, the man laughed. "Are you serious? The freaky girl? Huh, well thanks, but no thanks. Barely knew her. Honestly would be better off without her." A frown creased my face.

Clinton began to close the door but I shoved my foot in. Yanking his collar forward, I gathered up the cloth in my fists. "I suggest you be kinder about these children. You don't seem to be the type to fill out his taxing forms correctly, and we don't want an investigation going into this. So, you will accept my respect for your grievences, understand?"

The red faced man gasped out a feeble "Yes, sir." I dropped him stepping away.

A thin girl watched me from the edge of the property. Her purple glances winked in the blaring sunlight, watching me carefully.

"Thanks," she called over to me. "Clinton can be a real jerk. About time someone put him in line." The girl kicked at a pebble, sending it skittering towards me. "And thanks, for Tanya. You're a mighty fine gentleman. She'd be grateful."

Megan. That's who it was. Tanya's friend. Another reason why I was strolling down this area of District Ten.

"Your welcome," I said, but stiffly dug a hand through the bag around my shoulders. I handed the book to the girl, who eyed it carefully. "Tanya mentioned you liking to read. And the book lept out at me." I kept myself from adding that it reminded me of the arena somewhat.

Megan's hands ran down the binding, opening to the first page. "Gregor the Overlander?" I nodded.

"It's one of the writer's lesser known series, nothing like the one everyone knows. It's not available in the districts, and I'd thought you would enjoy it. At least, Tanay probably would but-"

The girl leaned forward, wrapping her arms around me. I patted her back and she smiled up at me.

"Thank you. You don't know how much this means to me." Megan, with a final little wave, started back down the road. Her nose was already deep into the first page, something about a boy and his sister, Boots.

A person walked by, wearing a hood up over their head. By the figure I could tell it was a girl, well, more like a woman.

"You know this isn't over, right?" she called. My eyes widened and she turned around. What the-

"You may have won, Drale, but even you know this isn't over. That something isn't right." Her voice was weird to listen to, my mind not used to the natural Ten accent.

"What do you mean? What's going to happen?"

Gamemaker Fulton smiled sadly. "There's a lot you don't know. This is only the beginning, kid."

Before I could answer, she turned, walking away.

**There you have it. So, new poll; sequel? If so, vote. And here's the results of the original one:**

**Drale- 11/20%  
>Robyn- 916%  
>Trey- 611%  
>Allie- 611%  
>Dorian- 59%  
>Westria- 47%  
>Cadette- 47%  
>Kellen- 47%  
>Tanya- 35%  
>Arianne- 23%**

**Here's Yelof, signing off. Clicking, for the first time ever, the Complete button.**


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